


Fallin' Apart

by BuckinghamAlice



Series: You Can Sit Beside Me When The World Comes Down [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: AU, High school AU continued, M/M, Mostly Plot TBH, Porn With Plot, Secret Identity, They knew each other as teens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-29
Updated: 2013-10-28
Packaged: 2017-12-28 00:22:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/985401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuckinghamAlice/pseuds/BuckinghamAlice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After fifteen years, Clark and Bruce are reunited, but as is always the case with them, nothing is easy.  As they both struggle with maintaining two lives and keeping them secret from one another, they begin to develop a third life together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wherever You Go, I'm Crawlin'

**Author's Note:**

> This is the sequel to "I Wanna," which you may want to read if you haven't already. Story takes place fifteen years after the end of the last one. And, like the last one, the title is an All-American Rejects song, which you should totally listen to because it's an amazing song.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As they say, old habits die hard.

Clark Kent couldn't believe his eyes. There on the stage was Bruce Wayne, a man with whom he had... history. Yes, that was the most discreet way of putting it. Clark had known when he and his partner Lois Lane were sent to cover this charity event that Bruce Wayne had made a big donation, but he hadn't realized that Bruce would actually be in attendance. He didn't read tabloids or gossip columns, but he knew enough to know that Bruce was always in them, always covered in arm candy. He would have thought Bruce would be too busy to make an appearance at an event like this. But... he wasn't going to question it.

Bruce was giving a speech and Lois was holding a little recording device so she wouldn't miss a word. Clark's eyes followed Bruce as he left the stage and made a beeline to the bar. "Clark," Lois said in a stage whisper, "Let's go talk to him."

Clark stared down at the woman who had quickly become his best friend and shook his head. "Oh, no. Lois, I don't think..." But Lois just rolled her eyes and linked her arm through Clark's. "Come on, Smallville!" And she pulled him off in Bruce's direction. The man in question looked up from his martini glass and seemed to eye Clark, whose mind was racing.   _Does he recognize me? Will this be awkward? Damn, he looks good._

"Bruce Wayne," Lois began. "Good to see you! That was some speech you gave." Bruce had barely noticed her. He and Clark had locked eyes and something had clicked, and now nothing else mattered. Lois looked up and realized that the two men she was with were staring at each other. With a little sigh she said, "Oh, Bruce. This is my partner, Clark Kent." Clark could feel a smile spreading on his face and Bruce gave him a little lopsided smile in response. "We've met," Clark managed to say. "It's good to see you, Bruce." He extended a hand to Bruce and felt a wonderful charge he had not felt in a long time when Bruce shook his hand.

"Yes, yes we have," Bruce said casually. "And it's good to see you, as well." Clark could feel himself blushing. _Play it cool_ , he told himself, but it was no use. He was still holding onto Bruce's hand, but Bruce hadn't yet tried to pull it back.

He could feel Lois's hand on his arm, so he reluctantly let go of Bruce's hand. "I didn't know the two of you knew one another," she commented, almost in an accusatory tone. " _How_ do you know each other? Clark never mentioned..." Bruce laughed lightly. "Oh, we go way back. I vacationed with his family one summer."

"I see," Lois said, giving Clark a look and a raised eyebrow. Then, getting back to business, she continued, "Now, Bruce, just wondering, this donation you made... was that in your name or your corporation's name?"

They were still staring at each other. Lois sighed heavily and cleared her throat.

"I think she asked you a question," Clark offered. And Bruce nodded. "Oh, right. Yes." Lois looked back and forth between the two men again and sighed once more. "I'm going to go get a drink," she said in annoyance. Neither man responded. "With Benjamin Franklin." Again, no response. "On the moon." Nothing. "Naked." Lois shook her head and laughed. Men were useless. She walked away with a glance over her shoulder, curious about the fact that she clearly wasn’t to be a part of the real story tonight.

When Lois was out of earshot, Clark said, "It's been a while." Bruce nodded. "Yeah. I guess it has. You look good. Taller."

"Yeah," Clark nodded. "You too. You look good, I mean. And taller. And... grown up." Bruce smiled. "Fifteen years will do that." Clark nodded sadly and ducked his head. So much had changed in those fifteen years. When he and Bruce had been together in Smallville, Clark had had no idea that he was an alien. He didn't know he would soon begin to develop powers that would change the whole course of his life. He had wanted to have Bruce in his life, but somehow relationships had sort of taken a backseat when he had found out what he was. But when he thought back to when he was a teenager, and how badly he wanted to invite Bruce back the next summer but just… couldn’t… he was filled with an overwhelming desire to take advantage of the fact that they were together now.

"Do you maybe want to go somewhere a little quieter so we can talk?" Clark asked. Bruce nodded and gave him a half-smile. "Sure." He was on the same page. The two men stepped out of the ballroom and hailed a cab. Bruce suggested they go to the bar at his hotel and Clark readily agreed.

The bar was dimly lit and smoky. There was a piano in the corner that looked like no one had played it in years, and next to it was an empty table for two. Bruce and Clark sat down and waited patiently for someone to take their order. “You know, I never figured that when I finally saw you again, it would be in a place like this,” Clark commented.

“You imagined seeing me again?” Bruce asked, amused. Clark blushed. “You know what I mean.” Before Bruce could respond, a cocktail waitress approached them, pencil poised to take their drink order.

“Hello,” she began with a smile. “Cocktails to start?” the waitress asked, eyeing both men, seemingly torn over which of them to ogle harder. It wasn’t every night that two such handsome men came in to the bar, and certainly not together where they could be observed at once.

“Yes, I’d like a beefeater martini, very dry,” Bruce said. “Plymouth gin, if you have it.”  
Clark smiled. “And I’ll have a rum and coke, please.”

When the waitress walked away Bruce raised an eyebrow at his companion. “So you’ve graduated from milk, I see. If I remember correctly, that was your drink of choice last time we were out together.”

Clark smirked. “Well, that was some time ago.” Bruce nodded. “I suppose you’re right.” He watched Clark for a moment as he pushed his glasses up his nose. “So, what are you? Far sighted or near sighted? Because your vision was pretty sharp when you were a kid. Not that the glasses don’t suit you…”

“Oh,” Clark began. He wasn’t entirely sure how to answer that question because he didn’t actually need the glasses, but he couldn’t say that. “The glasses… they’re, uh, mostly for reading. But I read a lot, so I wear them all the time.”

Bruce smiled. “You ruined your vision by reading in bed in the dark.” Clark smiled and nodded, and the waitress brought them their drinks. He had just taken his first sip when Bruce asked, “So you _didn’t_ marry Lana?”

“No,” Clark said, shaking his head. “I didn’t. I didn’t marry anyone.” Bruce nodded once, slowly, sipping his drink. “And are you dating that Lois woman?”

Clark laughed. “No. We gave it a shot, but she tired of me very quickly. The myriad ways I disappoint her don’t matter as much if we’re just friends.” Bruce smirked. “You know, Clark, I have trouble imaging _you_ disappointing anyone you were involved with,” he said coolly.

With a sip of his drink and a shake of his head, Clark retorted, “Well, we can’t all be as lucky in love as a certain playboy I could mention.”

Bruce snorted. “Love. I haven’t been in… well, I don’t _do_ love. I just date around and have fun. That’s all I need.” Clark nodded. “Yes. I know. I’d imagine most people know that. You’re not the most discreet young man.”

“Discretion is overrated,” Bruce replied, raising an eyebrow.

Clark nodded. “I suppose in your situation it would be.” Pausing to take another drink, he continued, “So these people you date… they know going in that you’re just looking to have a bit of fun and nothing serious, yet they go for it anyways.”

“Typically, yes,” Bruce said, nodding and casually finishing his martini. “I never need to try very hard.”

“So what is it you say to these women to get them falling all over themselves and lighting themselves on fire to get into your bed?” Clark asked, tapping his finger on the side of his glass before taking a hearty swig.

Bruce smiled that socialite smile and raised an eyebrow. “Try this one on. ‘That’s a nice suit, Clark.’” He reached across the table and gently touched Clark’s hand, just once. “Then I’d give the patented smolder and finish with, ‘The only way it could look any better would be if it was crumpled in a ball on my bedroom floor.’”

Clark almost choked on his drink from laughing. “You’re kidding. That crap actually works on these girls?”

“Yeah, and some of the boys, too,” Bruce said with a smirk. Clark blushed slightly and looked down at his glass, which was now pretty much empty. “Another round?” Bruce asked.

Clark nodded. “What the hell? Sure.” They called for the waitress and ordered the drinks, which were quickly delivered to them.

“I’d imagine you’ve had your own romantic successes,” Bruce commented. “I’m sure you could have your pick of the girls or the boys you know.”

Clark blushed but nodded. “Well, I haven’t exactly been in a monastery since we last saw one another. But I’m sure I haven’t seen anything like the amount of action you have.”

Bruce shrugged and sipped his drink. “You know, Clark, you really do look good these days. Much better in person than the promotional picture the Planet runs with your articles. Much bigger, too.”

Clark laughed. “You’re drunk.”

“I am not,” Bruce protested. “I just… I thought I should say something.” Clark shook his head. “Well… thank you. And you are just as handsome as I remember. Actually, I think you’re better looking now than you were.”

“You know, I’ve got a lovely suite upstairs… Jacuzzi, glorious view… a big, comfortable bed,” Bruce said warmly with a cocked eyebrow. Clark glanced up at him with a blush and downed his second drink, hoping rather expecting a little boost to his bravery.

Clark tilted his head and licked his lips, delighting in the fact that Bruce’s eyes widened slightly. “Bruce, are you trying to tell me something?” he asked.

Bruce shook his head. “Nope. I’m trying to ask you something. Like, if you want to get out of here, maybe continue this up in my room?”

This was the moment. This was the moment in which Clark had two choices. He could be mature and responsible and look to the future, rather than clinging to the past... or he could do something impulsive and romantic and let himself have something he had been wanting all night, and even longer than that, if he was being honest with himself. Well, there really wasn’t a choice after all. It was obvious. Clark nodded and smiled at the smaller man. “Yeah, I’d like that. Let’s go.”

Bruce paid their bar tab and they made their way over to the elevator. When the elevator door closed, Bruce sighed and licked his lips and Clark, who was suddenly possessed by the spirit of some forward, libido driven person, leaned in to Bruce and kissed him. He could feel Bruce smile as he pulled him closer and deepened the kiss. The shorter man pinned the taller to the wall and they both laughed between kisses, remembering after fifteen years how well this part of their relationship always worked. They were contemplating pressing the button to stop the elevator between floors, and Clark’s hand was just beginning to slide up Bruce’s back, as the elevator pulled to its first stop. “Oh,” a voice said, and they reluctantly pulled apart as a man and woman stepped on the elevator with them. When the other couple got off on the next floor, Bruce and Clark looked at one another and began to laugh all over again.

Bruce’s suite was on the top floor. They approached the door and Clark slipped his arms around Bruce’s waist and kissed his neck as he fished the key card out of his pocket. Bruce pulled Clark into the room after him and asked, “So, do I have to offer you another drink or have room service bring up a bottle of champagne…?”

“I don’t need you to woo me, Bruce,” Clark said. Bruce smiled suggestively and growled, “Good. Because I’m tired of waiting.”

Bruce grabbed Clark’s tie and pulled him closer. Clark flashed a devilish grin as he slid his hand up Bruce’s torso and began to undo the buttons on his shirt. “Oooh, you’ve been working out,” Clark commented as Bruce’s shirt fell to the floor. Bruce cocked an eyebrow and said, “You don’t know the half of it.”

He backed Clark into the bedroom and closed the door behind them. Bruce kissed Clark’s neck and sighed. He went and laid back on the bed, propping himself up on his elbows. “I want to see you take off everything,” he said calmly.

“Really?” Clark breathed, loosening his tie. “Mhm,” Bruce answered, crossing his ankles and nodding. Bruce watched expectantly as Clark slowly unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it off. He then pulled his undershirt off and dropped it on the floor.

“Actually,” Bruce began, scooting to the edge of the bed, “Why don’t you let me help you with those pants?” Clark smiled and walked up to Bruce, who slipped his arms around Clark’s waist. Clark ran his hand through Bruce’s dark hair and whispered, “I really missed you.” Bruce kissed Clark’s stomach in response and slowly lowered his zipper and let his hand slid down the taller man’s crotch. “I see you haven’t just grown _taller_ ,” he said cheekily, glancing into Clark’s blue eyes and delighting in the blush spreading across his cheeks.

They laughed as Bruce pulled Clark onto the bed with him and they kissed once more, feeling like they could have been fifteen years old again. Bruce took Clark’s glasses off and set them on the bedside table, kissing his nose as he did so.

Clark pulled Bruce onto his lap as he pulled his shirt off. Clark held the shorter man’s waist before running his hand along his chest. “Hey, what are all these scars from?” Clark asked, concerned.

Bruce grabbed Clark’s hands and held them. “Don’t worry about those. You know we rich playboys are usually also reckless daredevils.”

“Right,” Clark said, unsure, fingering a scar softly. Bruce sighed and rolled his eyes. “No,” he said, moving Clark’s hand. “Seriously. Don’t worry about those.”

“Okay,” Clark said. Bruce kissed Clark again and he was able to put his apprehensions about the scars aside. Clark’s hands slid down Bruce’s body and went to his zipper. “You want me naked?” he asked. “Do you want to fuck me?”

“I do,” Clark breathed. “I really fucking do.” Bruce smiled devilishly and climbed off of Clark. When he gave a little whine, Bruce said, “Just a minute.” Clark watched from the bed as Bruce strutted into the bathroom and returned a moment later with a bottle of lube and a condom. As he took off his pants and underwear, he said, “Don’t tease me, Clark. I need you out of those boxers.”

Clark blushed slightly as he raised his hips to slip his underwear off. Bruce smiled at the sight of his hard cock and licked his lips. He handed the condom to Clark and sat beside him on the bed as he rolled it down over his cock. Clark looked down, feeling slightly nervous all of a sudden. This was the moment he had been waiting for and now… now he was worried he would go too far. Because he wanted Bruce so badly… bad enough that he could see himself losing control. He needed this moment to collect himself.

“Hey,” Bruce began. “Are you… please don’t tell me you’re rethinking this…” Clark glanced up into his eyes and bit his bottom lip. “I… I really want this… you,” he said softly.

“I never thought this would happen again,” Bruce replied, none of that playboy bravado about him anymore. Clark gave him a soft kiss and breathed, “I always hoped it would.” Bruce gave him another kiss, more passionate than the last one and Clark found himself tangling his fingers in Bruce’s hair. God, it felt just like he remembered.

Clark quickly slicked himself with the lube and Bruce climbed on top of him. He reached under himself and guided Clark’s cock to his entrance as he lowered himself onto it slowly. He bit his lip and closed his eyes and Clark let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. “Are you okay?” he asked Bruce quickly.

“I’m perfect,” he breathed as he began to push down on Clark’s cock. Bruce pressed his hands into Clark’s chest, which was strong and broad and smoother than necessary, as he rode. “Oh, fuck, you feel so good, Bruce,” Clark moaned. He placed his hands on the smaller man’s hips and guided him down a little faster and harder as he began to thrust up into him.

“God, you’re good, Clark,” Bruce grunted. He let out a moan and threw his head back. “So good. Fuck. You’re even better than I remembered.”

“So are you,” Clark said, sitting up and wrapping his arms around the man in his lap. Between kisses, he breathed, “You’re so perfect,” and, “I missed you so much,” and, “I only want you.”

“I want you forever,” Bruce whined as Clark shifted positions and urged him onto his back. Clark leaned over him and kissed him again as he fucked him and Bruce wrapped his arms and legs around the larger man, realizing at once that he never wanted to let him go – even though he knew he would have to. He closed his eyes and tried to practice a breathing technique he had learned in Tibet. He imagined himself on a grassy hill top on a sunny day. He tried not to focus on the fact that Clark was fucking him just right – better than he’d had in a long time – and kissing him with the softest lips he had ever kissed. He tried to focus on the fact that as good as those things felt, he needed to ignore them… because this needed to last as long as possible. Because maybe it wouldn’t happen again.

Oh, God. What if it didn’t happen again?

“I need you, Clark,” he begged desperately. And Clark just seemed to understand it. He fucked him harder and kissed him with even more feeling, all the while holding him closer.

But it couldn’t last forever.

They were sticky, sweaty, satisfied, and wrapped around each other several minutes later when Clark sighed contentedly. Neither of them had said anything for a while, and Bruce was feeling dangerously close to falling asleep, not entirely sure why he hadn’t wormed his way out of Clark’s arms (and, even stranger, why he didn’t want to), but the sound made his eyes snap open. “Are you okay?” Clark asked.

Classic. “Are you going to keep asking me that?” Bruce returned. Clark laughed. “Well, if you weren’t so quiet all the time…”

“I don’t feel the need to fill every silence with constant mindless chatter,” Bruce said.

Clark rolled his eyes in the darkness. Maybe he’d be silent like Bruce. He could do that. A little smile spread across his face. It would drive him crazy. After a few minutes Bruce glanced up at Clark and sighed. “Did I hurt your feelings?” he asked.

“Nope,” Clark said, biting back a laugh. Bruce sighed again and began, “Clark, I…” but his voice trailed off to nothing as he craned his neck up to press a soft kiss to Clark’s lips. Clark took Bruce’s hand and kissed him back and it felt like they were breathing in time with one another, sharing the same air. Maybe they always had been… after all this time. It almost felt like no time had passed at all… but at the same time, it also felt like it might have been a million years. He didn’t understand it, and he didn’t understand why he felt like this odd feeling seemed to be the only thing that had been missing from his life. This was… well, Bruce didn’t want this to end. And that was why he knew that it should. That it had gone on long enough.

He had work to do. That was more important.

That was what he had to tell himself. It was more important.

Bruce slipped his hand away from Clark and ducked his head slightly. This wasn’t going to be good. “Clark… please don’t take this the wrong way,” he began. “It’s not a line. But I… I have to be up early, and I sleep better alone… so…”

“Seriously?” Clark asked. “You want me to go?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that I _want_ you to go,” Bruce said. “More like I need you to go.”

“Just like that?” Clark asked. “You ask me up to your room, have sex with me, and then push me out the door?”

Bruce sighed. “It isn’t like that. I just… you knew when you came up here…”

“That you had no desire to do anything but have a little fun with someone dumb enough to fall for all that charming crap you pulled?” Clark supplied irritably.

“Don’t be like that,” Bruce said, trying to sound calm. “And don’t take it personal. I’d ask anyone to leave. Like I said… I sleep better alone. You can understand that, can’t you?”

“Oh, yeah,” Clark said flatly. “I understand. I just… I don’t know why I thought… Well, I’m not going to beg you to let me stay here or to spend time with me.” He pushed Bruce off of him and stood up. “It’s fine, you know? I have work in the morning as well. The last thing I need is to spend the night here… with you.” He had gathered his clothes and was searching for his glasses in his pockets. Bruce reached over to the bedside table where he had laid them some time ago and handed them to the frustrated man before him.

“I’ll call you,” Bruce said. Clark rolled his eyes. “Spare me your lines.”

“It isn’t a line,” Bruce insisted. “I’ll really call.” He got out of bed and found his own pants and pulled his phone out of the pocket. “Here,” he said, handing the phone to Clark. “Put your number in. I’ll call tomorrow.” Clark gave him a skeptical look before taking the phone. For a moment he contemplated giving him a fake number… it would serve him right. He didn’t really believe Bruce would call, and he should have expected as much, given his reputation. But part of him (and at the moment, he really _hated_ this part) hoped he would call. Clark quickly punched his number in and handed the phone back with a sigh and turned away.

“You don’t have to… I mean, you could take a shower before you go,” Bruce offered, pulling on a dark blue silk robe. “And I’ll have Alfred drive you home, of course.”

Hastily dressing, Clark shook his head. “No. That won’t be necessary. I can manage just fine.” He walked out of the bedroom and back into the sitting area of the lavish suite. He thought with a pang that it might have been nice to have breakfast with Bruce in this room. As he started for the door, he felt Bruce’s hand on his shoulder.

“Clark…” he began, before sighing and pulling the taller man close for a kiss. He was surprised Clark didn’t stop him. He wouldn’t have blamed him.

But Clark couldn’t fight how nice that kiss felt, even if he believed it was just a platitude. _Don’t be that person_ , he told himself even as he found himself asking, “Will you really call?”

Bruce nodded. “I really will.” Clark turned and left, and Bruce heaved a heavy sigh as he watched him go. Why? Why had he felt so bad when Clark’s feelings were hurt? They were both adults… they had known what this was. Clark had no reason to expect… anything. So why had he been disappointed? And why had his disappointment tugged so at Bruce’s heart?

Bruce tried to shake it off. Now wasn’t the time. He had only come to Metropolis because a case had led him there. He had had no intention of seeing Clark Kent. Sure, he knew he was likely to be at that fundraiser… but Bruce certainly hadn’t hoped to see him. That wasn’t why he had decided to go.

Or so he told himself as he put the little earpiece to his comm. link back in his ear and prepared for his nightly patrol.

Clark sighed deeply as he took the elevator down to the hotel’s lobby. So… maybe he had handled things wrong. Maybe he had allowed himself to expect too much without even realizing it. He had known when he went to Bruce’s hotel what would happen and what it would mean. He had thought he was okay just hooking up with him. Just having fun. But somehow… it had felt like more than that… and he had forgotten that it wasn’t.

Bruce was no longer the boy who had slept on a trundle bed beside him all those years ago. He was a wealthy man who had a reputation he had earned. He was the kind of man who had people up to his hotel suite (which, Clark had noticed, was in fact bigger than his whole apartment) for casual sex. There was nothing wrong with that… but it wasn’t the way Clark was built. But, well… maybe he could be.

Things would be complicated enough, what with the distance and the whole Superman thing. Casual would probably be for the best. They had had fun, and if he could keep his feelings from cropping up to complicate things, maybe they could have… something. He didn’t know what, but he was willing to try and find out.

He flew across town to his apartment and sailed through the window. After a quick shower, he changed into his pajamas and turned his phone back on. He poured himself a glass of milk (laughing to himself at Bruce’s comment over their drinks earlier) and sat down to read his text messages.

He had four from Lois. The messages started out calm, but by the last one, they had grown agitated and accusatory. He’d probably be hearing from Lois about leaving her at that fundraiser for a long time.

There was also a fifth message from a number he didn’t recognize. It had simply said, “Goodnight, Clark,” so he assumed it was from Bruce. He smiled and texted back a goodnight before reminding himself not to get too carried away. It didn’t mean anything that he had texted him goodnight. He probably always sent goodnight texts to his booty calls. Because that’s what had happened… a booty call.

He sighed to himself and texted Lois that he was in for the night and would speak to her in the morning. As he expected, his phone rang a few seconds later.

“Like hell you’ll talk to me in the morning, Smallville,” Lois said as soon as Clark had picked up. “What the hell happened to you tonight? Did you really leave with Bruce Wayne?” Clark sighed and shook his head with a smile. “Not that it’s any of your business, Lois, but yes, I did. And hello, by the way. We still use that word where I come from.”

“Uh huh,” Lois said (and Clark could practically hear her rolling her eyes). “Do you have any ice cream in your freezer?”

“Uhh… I have the rest of that pint of peppermint stick we started the other night when we watched _The Way We Were_ …” Clark began. “Why?”

“Because I’m on my way over,” Lois began. “And trust me… we’re going to need ice cream.” Clark sighed and smiled as he hung up, because there was no way even he could stop her.


	2. Juggling and Whatnot, or How Some People Handle Dating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark confides in a very protective Lois, goes on what could more or less be called a date with Bruce, and has to run out at an unfortunate moment.
> 
> Oh yeah, and Superman really gets on Batman's nerves.

Ten minutes after they had gotten off the phone, Lois had stormed into Clark’s apartment and they were now sitting cross legged on his couch, facing one another with a half eaten tub of peppermint stick ice cream and a half eaten tub of cookie dough ice cream (that Lois had brought with her) between them, two spoons sticking out of each.

“So tell me everything, absolutely everything,” Lois said. “Start at the part where you abandoned me at that dull fundraiser.”

Clark sighed and ate a spoonful of peppermint stick. “How many times do I have to apologize for that?”

Lois waved her hand. “Several more, but we can cover that later. You and Bruce…?”

“Well, like you said, we left together,” he said. “We went back to his hotel, got drinks at the hotel bar and… well, you can probably imagine what happened after that.”

Lois rolled her eyes and pointed at Clark with her spoon. “Yes. I _can_ imagine. But the whole point of this is for you to _tell_ me. Haven’t you ever had a night of girl talk before?”

“No,” Clark said, getting himself a spoonful of cookie dough. “Because I’m not a girl, no matter how many girls’ nights you subject me to.”

Lois sighed and smiled. “Clark. Come on. You have no reason to be shy about anything. Share with the class. What happened tonight? After all, you can hardly have any secrets from _me_.” Clark was sure Lois meant that to make him feel comfortable, but somehow it sounded a bit menacing. He had to admit, Lois probably would end up finding out somehow, even if he didn’t tell her.

Clark bit his lip and sighed, fighting a blush. “We went to his room and… well, I slept with him. We had sex.”

Lois grinned. “Oh, you slut!”

Clark gasped. “Rude!”

“I’m kidding,” Lois said with a smile, having a bite of peppermint stick. “It was too easy.” She paused for a moment to catch his eye. “Just like you.”

Clark rolled his eyes and threw his head back to hide his very noticeable blush. “And you wonder why I don’t tell you things. Honestly.” Lois laughed. “I’m sorry, Clark,” she said. “I was just kidding. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I know I didn’t,” Clark said a bit defensively.

Lois took a spoonful of cookie dough and smiled as she studied Clark’s face for a moment. “So what line did he use on you?”

“No line,” Clark said. “He didn’t have to trick me or seduce me at all… I knew what I was getting myself into. I was hoping it would happen.” Lois cocked an eyebrow and Clark sighed. “We… when we were teenagers, we sort of dated. I guess I just thought… well, it doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, Smallville, no,” Lois sighed.

“What?” he asked, arching a brow and sticking his peppermint spoon in the cookie dough tub by mistake.

“You’re going to get your heart broken,” she said simply.

Clark sighed and shook his head. “No, I’m not.”

Lois nodded. “You will. You’re already being sentimental and romantic and letting him trick you into thinking that he wants more from you than he really does. You have to be careful with men like him.”

Clark shook his head and laughed. “I can’t believe I’m getting advice from my ex-girlfriend on how to deal with a guy.”

“Don’t change the subject,” she said, pointing her spoon again. “I’m serious, Clark. You need to be careful here. I know you… I can tell that you’re getting all moony for this guy, and he’s going to end up breaking your heart.”

“Lois, I’m a big boy,” he said with a sigh. “I know what I’m doing. I can take care of myself.”

She laughed. “If we were talking about a corn husking competition or a snipe hunt or something, sure. You know what you’re doing. You can take care of yourself. But this is something new to you. You’re a serial monogamist, Smallville. Bruce Wayne doesn’t know the meaning of the word. _You_ are going to fall in love, and he is going to break your heart, because that’s what guys like that do.”

“You do know that snipe hunts aren’t real, don’t you?” Clark inquired simply, as if the phrase “snipe hunt” had been all Lois had said. “That’s just a prank they pull on city boys who don’t know any better.”

“Way to focus on what’s important,” Lois said, rolling her eyes. “I know you think I don’t care, but I do. You’re a good kid… and as much as I hate to admit it, you’re also my best friend. I just don’t want to see you end up hurt because you think that you’re going to be able to change this guy. You won’t be able to, and thinking you can is the fastest way to set yourself up for a broken heart. I just want you to be careful.”

Clark nodded. “I will be. I promise you… I have no intention of falling in love with Bruce Wayne.”

“Famous last words,” Lois commented with a shake of her head.

“Oh, shut up,” Clark said, getting up and taking the ice cream cartons.

“Hey!” Lois exclaimed. “I wasn’t done.”

Clark yawned. “Well, I was. It’s late, I’m tired… and we both need to get to bed because we have work in the morning.” He eyed Lois. “You may as well stay over,” he said. “It’s too late for you to be out on the street.”

“I’m not staying here… you’re not getting lucky twice in one night,” she said with a snarky smile.

“Oh, hush,” Clark said. “I meant that you could take my bed and I’d take the couch.” Lois reluctantly agreed to sleepover, mainly to humor Clark. He offered her one of his t-shirts to sleep in, and it was long enough on her to look like a nightgown.

“Think about what I said,” Lois said as she climbed into Clark’s bed. He smiled and nodded. “I will, Lois.” _Probably too much_ , he added to himself.

“Good,” she said. “G’night, Smallville.” He smiled back at her as he took a blanket and extra pillow from his hall closet to make himself comfortable on the couch. “Goodnight, Lois.”

  
As Clark’s night was coming to an end, the Batman’s was just getting into full swing across town. Part of his reason for being in Metropolis was the fact that the trail of his latest investigation had led him right to Suicide Slum. He also… well, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t hoping to catch a glimpse of Superman. He had files on Superman, extensive files, but the pictures were no more than blue and red blurs. No pictures existed that weren’t blue and red blurs. Batman… didn’t trust Superman, and he wanted not just to see the man, but also to _talk_ to him. To hear him say that he was here to do good… to know if it was even possible that one man could do all the things this Superman seemed to be able to do. There had to be some excellent, cutting edge tech involved… that interested the Batman. But he saw pretty quickly that Superman seemed to be a diurnal creature… and even if he wasn’t, he probably didn’t bother with Suicide Slum. To Batman, Superman seemed like he could be no more than a fantasy, all bright and shiny and full of good deeds and perfect hair. Nope, he didn’t trust him at all.

He perched on the edge of a rooftop overlooking an apartment building that had been condemned some months back. He had been watching quietly, not fuming over Superman or mooning over Clark Kent, for some time, waiting for the right moment to pounce on the drug dealer that had been squatting inside, when he saw something whir by out the corner of his eye.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered under his breath. It was too soon. He got out his grapple hook and zipped a few rooftops over quickly. But he knew he had seen him. He wanted to face Superman, but not now. His timing, and on his terms. Batman stopped several buildings away and cursed to himself at that obnoxious Superman showing up to ruin a whole night’s work. Superman had landed on the rooftop he had just vacated and was walking along the edge of the building, like a circus acrobat on a tightrope. After a moment, he turned his head in Batman’s direction. He actually had the audacity to smirk and wave before taking to the sky again and flying away. Batman wanted to shout, “Show off,” but he thought he could count on having a bit more self-restraint than _that_.

Clark had to admit that that was fun. He had come to Suicide Slum because he had been awakened by what sounded like a house fire in one of the old tenements that he knew to be full of people, most of whom were poor and elderly. The nearest fire department to that run down area was run by volunteers, so Clark had put the fire out on his own and helped everyone who had been trapped in the building. Once that had been taken care of, he had flown in Batman’s direction quite by chance.

When he saw the vigilante sitting on the rooftop, staring unnervingly into the condemned apartment house, he wanted to swoop down and tell him that his brand of justice wasn’t welcome in Metropolis. He didn’t trust this Batman… most people still thought he was an urban legend, but Clark had never bought that. Superman had been an urban legend for a few years, too. But for over a year now, there had been reports of Gotham’s Batman… and Clark was uncomfortable with a figure that claimed to serve justice but could only do so under cover of darkness.

But when he saw the Batman scampering away to avoid him, Clark simply stifled a laugh and decided to mess with him a little. Maybe it was immature, but he was tired and still working alcohol and sugar out of his system… and it was fun. He had pissed off the Batman.

But if that masked creep planned on sticking around Metropolis for any amount of time, Superman would step in and help him see the error of his ways. But not tonight. That confrontation would come later… on _his_ terms.

He flew back to his apartment and drifted lazily through the window. Lois was still fast asleep, so Clark crept quietly into the bathroom and changed back into his pajamas. He snuggled under his blanket on the couch and sighed at the fact that he didn’t really need it. It had been years since his powers had started to emerge, almost overnight, not long after he and Bruce had parted ways as kids, and there were some things he was still getting used to. It still surprised him when he didn’t get cold in the winter or tired when he went without sleep. He had once gone a week and half without eating, just to see how long it would take his stomach to rumble. He had been this way literally half of his life, since he went through what he and his parents had come to call his super-puberty, and it still felt odd… and inhuman.

He pulled his blanket closer, feeling a different kind of chill all together. He picked up his cell phone, which had gotten lodged between the couch cushions and checked to see if… well, he wasn’t checking for any messages from any specific person, he told himself. He just wondered, was all. But there was nothing there. Just as well – Bruce was probably fast asleep, presumably alone.

  
It was in fact several hours later when Bruce got in. He hadn’t gotten the drug dealer he had been staking out, and Superman had him in a bad mood. He was scowling and grumbling to himself when he landed on the balcony outside his hotel suite.

“Productive evening, sir?” Alfred asked as Bruce pulled his cowl off and dropped it on the floor like a petulant child.

“I’ve had better,” he replied gruffly, pulling his cape off and dropping it as well. Alfred sighed as he picked up after him.

“This reminds me very much of when you were a boy and you went out to play in the snow,” Alfred said, picking up the gauntlets and gloves that had hit the floor as Bruce remotely accessed the batcomputer from his secure laptop. “When you came in from playing, I could always tell where you were because there would be a trail of gloves, a hat, a scarf, earmuffs, and finally a coat,” Alfred continued.

Bruce looked up at him and cocked an eyebrow. “What’s your point?”

“Just that some things never change,” Alfred said drily. “When you _were_ a boy, I always insisted you have soup when you came in from being out in the cold.” Bruce glanced up at Alfred and saw the look on his face. It was that “Listen here, young man,” look. He glanced over to the table and saw that there was a tray sitting there… and unless he had missed his mark, under that lid was a bowl of steaming chicken soup.

“No thank you, Alfred,” Bruce said distractedly. “I’m right in the middle of something, and I’m not hungry anyways.”

“Master Bruce, I insist,” Alfred said. Bruce looked up and began to protest, but Alfred reiterated in a more serious tone, “I insist, sir.” Bruce sighed, realizing it was useless to argue. He sat down and began to slurp noisily at the soup and continued to pout silently about Superman ruining his night.

Alfred watched him, a smile threatening to break out on his face. Bruce raised an eyebrow. “All right. You’re obviously bursting to say something. Be my guest.”

Alfred shook his head and laughed lightly. “Goodness,” he began. “Some things really _don’t_ change. That’s just the way you’d slurp your soup as a boy. Only I could scold you then.”

“I’m surprised you’re not scolding me now,” Bruce commented, straightening in his seat and grabbing a napkin to wipe his mouth.

“I assumed you knew by now that slurping, or any other onomatopoetic behavior, is quite rude,” Alfred responded drily. Bruce merely rolled his eyes, so Alfred continued. “I understand you had company earlier,” he commented. From anyone else, it might have been a question, but Alfred rarely asked questions. He just always knew what Bruce was hiding.

Bruce nodded and looked to his father figure before answering, “I did. Yes.” He continued to eat his soup, only more politely, now that his slurping had been brought to his attention.

“Yet you didn’t ask me to drive your young man home, as you usually do,” Alfred continued.

Bruce arched an eyebrow. “And how did you know it was a young man?”

Alfred cleared his throat and looked away quickly. “Thin walls, sir.” Bruce blushed at the realization that Alfred had not only been in his adjoining room but had obviously heard enough to know… more than he needed to know.

“Alfred, I… I’m sorry,” Bruce stammered. “I mean, I do realize you already know about the kind of debauchery I engage in… but it’s one thing to assume and another entirely to have mental images. I’m… I feel terrible.”

“Not to worry, sir,” Alfred said in a rush. “You needn’t be embarrassed. I didn’t bring up this sensitive subject to shame you for _that_. I have many more entertaining ways to spend my time than by involving myself in _your_ love life. I merely meant to ask why you brought your young man back here when you had… work… to do this evening. That was quite unlike you, if you don’t mind me saying as much.”

Bruce looked away. Alfred was right. Normally, he wouldn’t have done anything like what he had done earlier that evening. Sure, he brought people home, but never when there was work to be done. He couldn’t put being Batman on hold or even on the backburner… not for anyone else. But this was… Clark. And he was a special case.

“I had my reasons,” Bruce simply said. He couldn’t explain to Alfred that things were different because it was Clark Kent, the only person that he had ever really loved, and the only person from whom he always parted reluctantly. He shook his head, because thinking about his feelings made him feel strange and confused and he truly hated the feeling. He couldn’t look Alfred in the eye because he knew he’d be giving him one of those looks that plainly told how transparent he found Bruce.

“Very well, sir,” Alfred said. And Bruce was right, because when he looked up at him, he had a knowing look on his face and Bruce merely grunted. It was the most appropriate response he could muster at the moment.

After finishing his soup and doing a bit more research without really accomplishing anything, Bruce went and took a hot bath, changed into warm pajamas, and got into the big hotel bed. He reached for his phone and checked it, just in case he had any messages. He didn’t. But it was very late… most people would be asleep. Especially people who had work in the morning. Bruce sighed and rolled onto his stomach, and then his side.

Nope. It wouldn’t do. The bed was _too_ big and… empty, and it didn’t feel so comfortable anymore. He slid down onto the floor, pulling the comforter and a pillow with him. This… this was better. Bruce fell asleep, clutching his phone in his hand just in case it rang.

  
The next day, Clark was working at his desk as he ate a lunch of a cup o’ noodles and a Reese’s peanut butter cup when his cell phone rang. He and Lois were the only ones in the bullpen, as everyone else had gone out to eat, so she shot him a look as he made an odd little squeaking sound as he noticed that it was, in fact, Bruce Wayne calling him. He honestly hadn’t expected him to call.

He gulped before answering, “Hi. Hello.”

On the other end of the line he heard Bruce clear his throat before saying, “Hello, Clark.”

“Hi,” Clark repeated. He rolled his eyes at his own nervousness and ran his hand through his hair. He noticed Lois was watching him, looking amused, so he stuck his tongue out at her before swiveling his chair around the other way. “How are you?” he asked, trying to get the conversation on some sort of track.

“I’m fine,” Bruce answered stiffly. “And you?”

Clark nodded, despite the fact that he knew Bruce couldn’t see him. “I’m fine, too. Yep.” There were a few moments of silence. Clark thought to himself that it ought to have been easier than that to talk to someone you had just slept with… but, then again, maybe it was different when things were “casual.” He didn’t know.

“So,” Bruce began. “I assume you’re at work?”

“I am,” Clark answered. “Well, I’m having lunch, actually… but I am in the office.”

“So I probably shouldn’t keep you, then,” Bruce said. “I was just calling because I… said I would call.”

“Right, right,” Clark responded, trying not to sound disappointed. “That’s fine. I mean, yeah. Thanks… for that.”

“You’re… welcome,” Bruce responded, sounding slightly (and uncharacteristically) confused. “I’ll… maybe we can talk again… sometime. Goodbye, Clark.”

“Bye,” Clark answered. Bruce had already hung up. He set his phone down on his desk and frowned. Bruce hadn’t wanted to talk to him. He was only calling because Clark had been needy and whiny. He crushed the Styrofoam cup from his cup o’ noodles and tossed it in his trash can.

Well, that was that. That would probably be the last of him and Bruce.

  
Across town, Bruce was sitting in his Metropolis office with his head down on his desk. Why had he been so damned awkward? He hadn’t even been that shy when he was an actual schoolboy, and here he was now, a thirty year old man, stammering on the phone while he tried to talk to his crush.

He had wanted to ask Clark to dinner. He’d woken up that morning and decided Batman could have the night off, and he thought that Bruce might be lucky enough to have Clark’s company. But it seemed that he had somehow become an idiotic, stammering mess.

No. _No_. That wasn’t acceptable. He had already disappointed Clark once by asking him to leave… he couldn’t leave the phone call at that. He was going to try again.

“Do you have plans this evening? Are you doing anything for dinner? Would you like to have a meal with a complete jackass?” Bruce muttered to himself. “I can do this. C’mon.”

He called Clark back, only hoping he felt sorry enough for him to answer again. By the time the phone had rung five times, he was about to hang up when Clark finally answered.

“Hello again,” Clark said coolly.

Bruce sighed. “Hey. Listen… I’m sorry for that last call. I… I didn’t know what to say.”

“Yeah,” Clark said, seeming to relax. “I didn’t either. It’s… silly, isn’t it?”

Bruce smiled to himself. “It is. It doesn’t have to be awkward. We’re mature adults here.”

“That’s right. At least that’s what they told me when they wouldn’t let me in Chuck E. Cheese,” Clark said lightly.

Bruce laughed and let out a breath. Not so bad. “You know, I was hoping that, if you don’t have any plans tonight, you might be willing to have dinner with me. Is that…?”

“That sounds good, yeah,” Clark said. “But… I think we should probably set a couple of guidelines to make sure that all of that stuff that shouldn’t happen doesn’t happen again.”

“Okay,” Bruce began. “Such as?”

“For starters, a one drink maximum,” Clark began. “We should stay in public places. Oh, and no music. You know how I get. And you have to keep your shirt tucked in and your socks on… you know how _you_ get.”

“Wow,” Bruce said, pretending to sound offended. “You _really_ don’t want to have sex with me, do you?”

Clark laughed once. “If that were true, we wouldn’t need guidelines.”

“Well, in that case, I should probably come up with a few guidelines of my own,” Bruce said playfully. “But hey, I don’t want to keep you from your lunch. But I’ll see you this evening?”

“Yeah,” Clark answered. “Where would you like to meet?”

“Why don’t I pick you up from work and we can go from there?” Bruce asked. Clark agreed and told Bruce when and where to pick him up. They hung up and Bruce smiled, feeling much better.

He was actually still smiling when he went back to his hotel, and though Alfred was surprised, he tried not to show it and definitely didn’t question the young master’s cheerful mood.

  
Clark was so cheerful for the rest of the afternoon that he began to annoy Lois. She shook her head at him as she saw the smile on his face. “Smallville, I’m going to tell you what my mother told me right before I left for my senior prom,” she began. Then, straightening her back and making a snooty face, she said, “’Behave – don’t do anything you’d be ashamed to tell your father and me about, and above all else, keep both feet on the floor.’”

Clark laughed. “Do you have any idea how much trouble I could easily get into, even _with_ both feet on the floor?”

By this time the elevator doors were opening and Bruce Wayne was walking into the Daily Planet. Lois was standing close enough to Clark to hear him give an almost inaudible little sigh when he caught sight of the billionaire and she couldn’t stop herself from rolling her eyes.

“Hi, Bruce,” Clark said. “You remember Lois.”

“Of course,” he began. “Hello, Miss Lane. Always a pleasure.”

“Mhm,” she said, crossing her arms in front of her and staring into Bruce’s eyes. “Listen, _Mister_ Wayne. Clark here is like my little brother, and I have no intention of seeing my little brother get hurt while I’m around to do something about it. So you just be careful with him, okay?”

Bruce raised an eyebrow but his voice was even and chilly when he said, “I’m sure you don’t need to worry about Clark. He’s a big boy, and he’s in good hands.”

Lois was opening her mouth to retort when Clark put his hand on her shoulder to shush her. “Shouldn’t we get going now, Bruce?” He smiled at Bruce and shot Lois a look that at once thanked her for worrying but told her to back down.

The two men headed for the elevator and Lois called after them, “Remember your feet, Clark!”

Bruce cocked an eyebrow and asked, “What did that thing about your feet mean?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Clark answered with a smile as they stepped into the elevator. “So where do you want to go for dinner? We have a great sushi place on the next block – best sake bomb I’ve ever had and I’ve been to Japan – or there’s the Italian place next door to it. Excellent pizza, but the pasta is usually a bit overcooked for my taste. Lois says they also do a good t-bone steak, but I’m a vegetarian, so I can’t vouch for that.”

“So about Lois,” Bruce began, ignoring Clark’s question about the restaurant, as the elevator came to the ground floor. “Is she always so violently protective of you? Or was that something I inspired in her?”

Clark sighed. “Well, she’s always in big sister mode… but I suppose it’s in overdrive where you’re concerned.” He paused and offered Bruce his arm, and it was reluctantly taken. “Did we decide where we were going to eat?”

“Why do I worry your self-appointed guard dog so much?” Bruce asked, concern creasing his brow slightly. He knew exactly why Lois was worried… but he needed to hear what Clark thought of Lois’s fears. He needed to hear him say that the woman was crazy, that he felt safe and secure with Bruce. It wasn’t that he was going to date Clark Kent (or anyone else for that matter)… but he thought that something would be wrong if Clark was nervous about spending time with him just because he had a certain reputation. It was all exaggerated anyways. Well, some of it was exaggeration, at any rate.

Clark flashed a smile with those perfect little dimples, and for a second Bruce felt as if he had swallowed something larger and with a bigger wingspan than a couple of butterflies. Looking at Clark, Bruce thought everything that was good in the world was hidden behind that perfect smile. “Don’t worry about it,” Clark said reassuringly, bringing Bruce back to reality. “Lois just worries about me all the time. Being a country boy, some people still expect me to be afraid of the subway and think the bums are street performers.”

They hailed a cab and Clark gave the driver his address. “Why don’t we just go to my place and order a pizza or Chinese or something?” Bruce was eyeing him, so Clark added quietly, “I could go for chow mein.”

“I thought you said public places only,” Bruce said.

“I changed my mind,” Clark said, flashing another of those smiles.

Bruce looked out the window to the dark street outside and casually took Clark’s hand. Neither of them could look at the other, but if they had, they might have shared a laugh over the fact that they were both blushing.

“Lois thinks I’ll break your heart,” Bruce said softly, and Clark’s silence was all the answer he needed. “What do you think, Clark? Do you think I would break your heart?”

Clark looked at Bruce and squeezed his hand. “I don’t really think you would… not on purpose at least. And even if you _would_ , I wouldn’t let you. Contrary to popular belief, I can take care of myself. You’d be stunned, in fact, if you knew how capable of taking care of myself I actually am.”

“Well, good,” Bruce said, giving him a little half smile. And this time it was Clark who was left feeling fluttery inside. They rode along in silence until they arrived at Clark’s apartment. They both tried to pay the cab driver, but Clark insisted, seeing as how he’d have taken the cab home anyways. Bruce was just his guest.

When they got up to Clark’s apartment, he went and found a few take-out menus in one of his kitchen drawers and told Bruce to pick the restaurant. He picked Clark’s favorite Chinese place. “You said you wanted chow mein,” he commented, handing Clark the menu.

“Do you still like beef and broccoli and fried rice?” Clark asked.

Bruce smiled. “How could you possibly remember that?”

“I’ve got a good memory,” he replied dismissively, but with a playful little smile on his face. He phoned in the order, and Bruce made himself comfortable on the sofa. After Clark got off the phone, he sat next to Bruce and asked, “What would you like to do until dinner gets here? We could… watch a movie or… talk about our lives…”

Bruce raised an eyebrow at him and Clark smiled softly. It didn’t take too long for them to close the distance between their bodies, Bruce pressing his lips to Clark’s as the taller man grabbed hold of his shirt.

Between kisses, Bruce asked, “I thought we weren’t going to do this?”

Clark smiled, kissing him again. “I lied, Bruce. I’ve been hoping this would happen since I heard your voice this afternoon.”

“Good,” Bruce breathed. “Me too.” Clark kissed him again and allowed his fingers to tangle in Bruce’s hair. Bruce leaned in closer and his fingers quickly unbuttoned Clark’s shirt.

“Bedroom?” Bruce asked.

Clark shook his head. “No… let’s stay here so I can keep my feet on the floor.”

  
It was forty-five minutes later when the doorbell rang. “Just a minute,” Clark called, half giggling as he tried to pull his hastily discarded pants back on. They had almost forgotten about the Chinese food coming, but they both had to admit they were pretty hungry now.

“Wait,” Bruce said, catching Clark by the wrist. He had picked up his pants from the floor and was now fishing his wallet out of the pocket to hand it to Clark. “Let me…”

“Bruce, no,” Clark protested. “You’re my guest… let me take care of dinner. I may not have a mountain of cash like you do, but I hardly think a couple of cartons of rice and noodles will be what puts me in the poor house.”

Bruce shook his head. “But you got the cab…”

“It’s fine,” Clark said staunchly. “Honestly.” Before Bruce could say anything else, he zipped his pants and went to the door. He paid the delivery boy and gave him a healthy tip and closed the door behind him. He set the food down on the kitchen counter and looked over at Bruce. “I appreciate you offering to get dinner, but… it isn’t necessary. I don’t need you to support me, just like I don’t need Lois watching out for me.”

“Okay,” Bruce said simply. He stood up and slipped his underwear back on. Clark offered him a container of fried rice and gave him a soft smile.

“Are you mad at me now?” Clark asked.

“Don’t be silly,” Bruce said dismissively. “I don’t understand your indignation, but I’m not mad.”

Clark rolled his eyes as he opened the container of chow mein, pulled a noodle out with his fingers, and popped it in his mouth. “Please. I was _not_ indignant. I just… whatever it is that we’re doing isn’t going to work if I end up feeling like your little kept boy.”

“That’s... fair, I suppose,” Bruce said. “But… you can’t always pay for everything. Paying for things is all I have to offer, and…”

Clark cut him off. “No. That’s not true. You have a lot to offer.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Such as?”

“The fact that you’re disgustingly handsome, great in bed, and you make me laugh,” Clark said. “I’d keep going, but I know you well enough to know that you’re going to start disagreeing with me soon enough.”

Bruce gave him a half smile, and they sat down on the couch and ate, all the while reminiscing about the time they spent together in Smallville and telling each other some of the things that had happened to them since they had been apart.

They noted eventually that it was getting late, and Clark sighed before saying, “I know you said you prefer to sleep alone, but… I mean, you’re welcome to stay here if you’d like. I would even stay on the couch if you didn’t want me crowding you.”

Bruce gulped. He honestly wasn’t sure how to respond, so he surprised even himself when he found himself nodding. Recovering quickly, he added, “Yeah. I’d like that. And you wouldn’t be crowding me.” Clark smiled and took his hand. He led him to his bedroom and they climbed into bed together. They laid side by side on their backs and held hands under the blanket that Bruce had immediately recognized as one of Martha Kent’s quilts.

“It’s funny,” Clark began. “This feels like… like no time has passed at all.”

Bruce smiled and nodded. “You’re right.” Then, even quieter he added, “Thank you, Clark.” And Clark smiled, because he wasn’t sure why Bruce was thanking him and because he wanted to thank him for agreeing to stay.

But before he could say any of that, he heard the anguished cries of what sounded like a number of people trapped inside a collapsed mine. And he had to hurry.

“Bruce, I have to… there’s something I have to take care of,” he said unconvincingly as he got out of bed. He dashed into his bathroom and put his uniform on at super speed, throwing street clothes over it.

“You’re leaving _now_?” he asked, surprised.

“I’m so sorry,” Clark said as he ran for the door. “I’ll explain later.” _But how?_ he asked himself. That was the million dollar question.

Bruce sighed to himself as he got out of bed and put his clothes back on. Part of him had to wonder if Clark was paying him back for the night before… and part of him thought that if that was the case, he kind of deserved it. But either way, he was too proud to be there waiting when Clark got back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Funny story... I felt like the last chapter was too long, so I set out to make this one shorter, yet it somehow came out longer. Sorry about that. =P


	3. Different Standards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the team of Lane and Kent go to Gotham to interview Bruce Wayne, Clark gets a little more than he bargained for... and he's totally into it.

It was almost three months before Clark and Bruce saw one another again or even talked to one another, and even then, it wasn't by choice.

It wasn't that they were mad at one another. It was that they were both furious, though not necessarily at each other. Clark was furious at the situation, because he had finally been having a lovely moment with Bruce and it had been ruined. Bruce was furious with himself for expecting the worst of Clark and not believing he had a valid reason for leaving that night, because even though expecting the worst was his default he should have known better than to think it should apply to Clark. But they were both too stubborn to admit any of that, so they told themselves their rage was directed at the other man, who was completely in the wrong. They had both been ill-used, abandoned, and probably mocked. It didn't even take much work for them to both imagine themselves the victim.

But the months of silence and blame ended abruptly when Perry sent Lois and Clark to Gotham to interview Bruce on the eve of the dedication of a new WayneTech factory in Gotham that was giving jobs to hundreds of locals. Clark was dreading seeing Bruce... he had missed him, quite a lot to be honest, but he was worried it would be awkward... and he expected Bruce was mad at him. But Lois seemed to be looking forward to both the story and the opportunity to see Bruce. Clark suspected she was planning to tell him off... he wouldn't have been surprised if she had asked for this assignment just to get the chance to do it.

So Clark found himself sitting in the lobby outside Bruce's office late one morning, with Lois beside him, literally on the edge of her seat. Lois was not a patient person, and Bruce had kept them waiting for over half an hour. When Lois appealed to the receptionist for the sixth time, she was told (again) that, Mr. Wayne had, "been detained" and would see them, "as soon as he possibly could."

But as Clark expected, Bruce walked in casually (as he had not been in his office, like the receptionist wanted them to think) and peered at them through dark designer sunglasses. "All right, let's get this over with," he said flatly.

"Hello to you too," Clark said, getting up and following him into his office.

"You know, you've got a lot of nerve," Lois began, closing the door after her. "You should be thankful we're here to interview you at all... it's obvious you're just the pretty front man for this operation. If you're lucky, we won't expose that."

"Front man," Bruce spat back. " _Miss_ Lane, _you_ have some nerve."

" _I_ have some nerve!" Lois repeated indignantly. "After what you did to Clark, and you say I have nerve."

Bruce pulled his sunglasses off and glared at the two reporters before him. "What I did. What _I_ did. What do you think I did?"

"Stop it, you two," Clark said seriously. "You're both being ridiculous. Lois, I don't know how many times I have to tell you this, but you do not need to get all feral in defending me and my... virtue or whatever you want to cal it. And Bruce, please."

"Please what?" he asked. "Please just stand here and let her talk about things she obviously knows nothing about?"

Clark rolled his eyes. "No, please stop being melodramatic... I've got enough of that with this one," he said, jerking a thumb in Lois's direction.

"Hey!" she protested. "I am not melodramatic, and I _do_ know what I'm talking about. And you owe me an apology, Bruce Wayne."

Bruce actually gaped for a moment before asking, "What? Why? What are you talking about now?"

Lois rolled her eyes. "First of all, I should have said you both owed me an apology because I saw that heartbreak coming a mile off. But you owe me one especially because after you broke his heart, he was absolutely useless to me for days."

Clark and Bruce indignantly said, "Honestly," at the same time and then glared at each other for a solid twelve seconds.

"Actually, you know what? No," Bruce said. "I'm not dealing with Miss Lane."

"What?" Lois squawked. "Why?"

"Because you're being rude and hostile and very unprofessional," he said. "And I just don't have the energy for that this morning."

Lois shook her head. "No. Absolutely not. No way. I'm not leaving Clark alone with you."

"Lois, please," Clark said. "I'm fine. Really. And Bruce, don't talk to her like that."

Bruce rolled his eyes. "You don't really get to tell me how to talk to her or anyone else. Now, can we do this and get it over with?" Clark nodded at Lois and silently told her it was fine. She could leave and he'd be okay. Once Lois had stepped out, Bruce raised an eyebrow and motioned for Clark to sit down.

“I’m sorry about Lois,” Clark said. “You know how protective she can be.”

Bruce glanced up at Clark with a cocked eyebrow. “Do you suppose that she might be acting like that because she thinks I hurt you?”

“Well, you did,” Clark said flatly.

Bruce snorted a sarcastic laugh and rolled his eyes. “Oh, right. Because I’m the one who ran out in the middle of the night to ‘take care of something.’” He rolled his eyes. “I’m surprised at you. I’d have thought you’d proudly tell her how you got your revenge for me asking you to leave that first night. You two could have had a great laugh at my expense. You missed a great opportunity.”

“Oh, come off it,” Clark shot back. “Are you really gonna sit there and act like the victim when you were the one who ran out while I had my back turned?”

“You mean when you gave me an excuse so flimsy it hardly even counts as an excuse and left me alone in your apartment? Yeah, you’ll have to forgive me for not obediently waiting for you to return to me,” Bruce said.

“I told you I would explain later,” Clark said. “I’m sorry I had to leave, but I had an emergency. I was not leaving _you_. I don’t _do_ things like that.”

“Meaning _I_ do?” Bruce asked.

Clark rolled his eyes. “Meaning you did in fact do exactly that.”

“I’m terribly sorry that I wasn’t there to hear whatever bullshit lie you were preparing for me,” Bruce said drily. “But, as we’re both in the same room at the moment, you could explain now.”

“Oh,” Clark said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He couldn’t explain to Bruce that he had had Superman business to take care of… he didn’t actually have an excuse to offer. “Well, the fact that I said I had an emergency should be explanation enough.”

“That doesn’t explain a damn thing, Kent,” Bruce spat in annoyance. “And your hesitation tells me that you’re hiding something. You are a notoriously bad liar… you may as well just tell me what you’re hiding.”

Clark shook his head. “I am not hiding anything. I did have an emergency… and that’s all I can tell you. You’ll just have to trust me.”

“The only people who ever say ‘trust me’ are the people who have something to hide,” Bruce said. “And I can hardly trust _you_ if you don’t trust _me_ enough to take me into your confidence. So we may as well get on with this interview…”

“That’s emotional blackmail, Bruce,” Clark said. “And I’m not telling you what happened that night because I _can’t_ tell you. I want to… believe me, I want to. But look at us… that happened months ago and we’re both still upset over it. That has to mean that there’s something here, right? Something to fight for… so can we just agree to let all of that go and forgive each other?”

“And start over?” Bruce asked.

“Yes, exactly,” Clark said with a little smile.

Bruce shook his head. “No. We can’t just start over.”

“Why not?” Clark asked.

“Because,” Bruce began, furrowing his brows and making a fist. “Because… I could sit here and say I forgive you, but I would be lying. You have to make it up to me.”

“Wait, why do I have to make it up to _you_?” Clark asked. “We both handled things poorly… shouldn’t we be about even?”

Bruce sighed and said, “Stand up.” When Clark reluctantly did so, Bruce said, “Good. Now put your hands on my desk and spread your legs a little.” Clark sighed and rolled his eyes as he followed Bruce’s instruction. The billionaire stood up and walked up behind Clark, causing him to tense slightly.

Bruce got very close to Clark and put his mouth near the taller man’s ear, letting his hot breath rush over Clark’s neck and prick at his skin. He ran his hand slowly and lightly down Clark’s back as he whispered, “You were bad, Mr. Kent. And I think you need to learn your lesson. And I’m going to be the one to teach you.” He gave Clark’s ass a hard slap and earned a gasp from the reporter.

“I… we…” Clark stammered. Collecting himself somewhat, he managed, “Everyone will hear us.”

Bruce draped an arm around him and rubbed his chest. “Nope, they won’t. This office is totally soundproof. I can do whatever I want to you, and no one would know.”

Clark gulped. “And what exactly do you _want_ to do to me?”

“You’re about to find out,” Bruce growled.

Clark felt strangely exhilarated as Bruce peeled his jacket off of him and silenced him with the intense look on his face. He had never done anything like this. Never been told what to do, never been at someone’s mercy. He blushed with the realization that he was getting aroused.

“On your knees,” Bruce said calmly. Clark obediently lowered himself to the floor and glanced up into Bruce’s shining blue eyes. “Do you know why you’re down there, Clark?” Bruce asked. “Do you know what I need from you?”

Clark nodded and licked his lips.

“Good,” Bruce said with a smile as he unbuckled his belt and lowered his zipper.

Clark could hardly have described how he felt as he sucked Bruce off, right there in his office with the door closed (but not locked). Clark looked up into Bruce’s eyes and felt a surge of desire shoot through him. He grabbed hold of Bruce’s hips and urged him to thrust into his mouth, fuck him, gag him. Clark had never wanted anyone or anything so badly. He had been so mad and hurt before, but now he hardly remembered or cared. All that mattered now was pleasing Bruce, making him feel as good and as wanted and needed as he felt in that moment. His cock twitched in his pants and he squirmed to try and rearrange himself to stop the zipper from grating again him.

Bruce bit his lip and tangled a hand in Clark’s hair as his desire threatened to overcome him. From the moment he had Clark alone, he had been fighting the desire to touch him and tell him how badly he wanted him. But he hadn’t been able to say it or do anything but work himself into feeling angry… but the anger had quickly become arousal. He soothingly rubbed Clark’s ear, a gesture he had used on him when they were young, and watched his eyes glaze and his cheeks burn. God, he was perfect. He really was.

“You’re so good,” Bruce mumbled. “I love your fucking perfect mouth. You’re so good, Clark.”

Clark moaned something against his cock and rubbed at himself through his pants.

Bruce grabbed hold of Clark’s tie and said, “Stand up.” He held fast to the tie as Clark rose. When their eyes met, Clark bit his lip and asked, “So what are you going to do to me now?”

Bruce cocked an eyebrow and reached for Clark’s belt buckle. He yanked his pants down and turned him around. “Bend over and you’ll see.” Clark did as he was told but watched anxiously over his shoulder as Bruce rummaged in his desk drawer before pulling out a bottle of lube and a box of condoms.

“So you just keep that stuff in your desk in case someone stops in for a little afternoon delight?” Clark asked.

“Always be prepared,” Bruce said as he slicked two fingers. “That’s what I’ve always said.” Clark’s breath caught as Bruce slid one and then a second finger inside him. Bruce stretched him open before whispering, “Do you want me to fuck you?”

Clark nodded. “Uh huh.”

“Use your words, Mr. Kent,” Bruce whispered.

“Yes,” Clark said with another emphatic nod.

Bruce withdrew his fingers and earned a slight whimper from Clark as he rolled the condom onto his cock and slicked himself. He lined himself up with Clark’s entrance and asked, “Yes what?”

“Yes, please,” Clark begged. “Please fuck me.”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Bruce said as he slid into the taller man. He stilled himself when he noticed how hard Clark was gripping the side of the desk for fear that he had gotten ahead of himself and hurt the man, but Clark, ever the energetic lover, pushed back on to him and reached behind to grab Bruce and urge him to push into him.

“Oh, fuck yes,” Clark moaned as Bruce fucked him into the desk. Clark told himself that it shouldn’t have been happening, that he should have showed some kind of self-restraint, but God… he couldn’t deny he wanted Bruce. He could never deny it; he had always wanted him. It shouldn’t have felt so good to be… dominated… but it did. Having Bruce’s hand on his hip, standing behind him, making him feel like they had been made to do this together… it was all he could have wanted. He felt boneless and tingly and like he wasn’t even in the real world anymore.

He realized that Bruce was wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him back. Bruce sat down in his desk chair and pulled Clark by his tie into his lap. Clark’s back was up against Bruce’s chest as he lowered himself onto Bruce’s cock and threw his head back almost onto Bruce’s shoulder.

Bruce let go of Clark’s tie to grab a handful of his hair and pull his head back enough so he could kiss him over his shoulder. The kiss started out hard and bruising and passionate, but it slowed after a moment to a lazy, sweet thing that somehow felt more intimate than anything they had done so far. As Clark pushed down and rode Bruce, the two men put their foreheads together.

“You’re mine,” Bruce said.

“And you’re mine,” Clark replied.

Bruce’s hand slid from Clark’s hair and caressed his face. “I just want you. No more of this bullshit.”

Clark shook his head. “We’re going to do this right from now on. No more games. Just you and me.”

“That’s all I want,” Bruce said. “You and me.”

Bruce finished first, followed moments later by Clark, who shouted Bruce’s name and then blushed and asked for reassurance that the walls were really soundproof. And Bruce laughed heartily for the first time he could remember in quite a while and the sound was so bright that Clark smiled and kissed him.

“Hey, did you mean that stuff you said?” Clark asked.

“Did you?” Bruce returned.

Clark laughed. “I asked you first.”

“Is this your idea of an interview?” Bruce asked with a smirk.

“Oh, shit,” Clark muttered. “That is what we were supposed to be doing in here, wasn’t it? Lois is going to kill me… or worse, burst in here in a minute.”

“God, she does seem like the kind of person who would burst in,” Bruce muttered. “Okay, here’s what we do. Clothes back on, and you pull out your little notebook or whatever it is you use now and write that I am excited about this chance for my company to give back to the community and I think that sort of thing is important… and maybe you can come up with a good reason for me to say something so trite.”

“You’re terrible,” Clark said as he stood up and got back into his pants.

Bruce smiled. “I know. Now… are you going to be in the city all day? Maybe we could get together…”

Clark looked at his watch and said, “I wish I could. Lois and I have a train in like twenty minutes and she might actually murder me if we miss it.”

“Fine,” Bruce responded. “I guess I should let you go. But… I did mean what I said.”

“So did I,” Clark said. “We’re gonna do it right this time.”

After a few more quick kisses and promises to call each other, Clark emerged from Bruce’s office to find Lois sitting outside, drinking a Red Bull, and looking more than a little annoyed. “As long as you were in there, you better have gotten gold, Smallville,” she warned. “And hurry before we miss that train!” Lois grabbed his wrist and hurried him out the door. Then, glancing at that slightly dazed (and quite familiar) look on his face, she said, “You know, your fly is open.”

Clark blushed and quickly covered his fly with his hand as he glanced down there, but it wasn’t open.

“The fact that you looked just proves it could have been open,” Lois said. “I don’t believe you! Did you… did you really…?” And the lecture Clark got lasted the entire train ride back to Metropolis and by the time they were back at the Planet office, Clark really wished he had flown.

  
Over the next few months, Clark and Bruce took their vow to “do things right” very seriously. They called each other or Skyped every day and they got together at least twice a week for dates that ended in amazing sex. Bruce stopped shamelessly flirting with all the important socialites and even took Clark to a few events with him, hand in hand or arm in arm. He had been smiling and laughing more than ever, and they weren’t those fake grins and high pitched peals of laughter he had to rehearse. It would be accurate to say they were dating. Lois had begun to refer to Bruce almost exclusively as “Smallville’s boyfriend” and Clark had began to think of him as such. They hadn’t said it officially, but they were a couple, an actual couple.

And when Clark realized what a big deal their relationship was becoming, he flew home to Smallville one Sunday for dinner with his folks and told them about his newly rekindled relationship.

When he had told them that he was “sort of dating Bruce Wayne” his parents had exchanged a knowing look and smiled at him. “That’s wonderful, honey,” his mother had said.

“We’re really happy for you, son,” his father had said. “Happy for you both, actually.”

Clark cocked an eyebrow and heaved a very small sigh. “Well, thank you for that… but… you’re not at all surprised, are you?”

Martha laughed and put her hand on her son‘s. “Sweetie, Bruce is a very public figure. He’s photographed everywhere he goes… and lately, you’ve been going a lot of places with him. I don’t think there’s a soul alive that doesn’t know that Bruce Wayne has a new young man, and that that young man happens to be one of the finest journalists alive.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Clark asked. “You guys could have asked me about him… I wouldn’t have gotten offended.”

“Oh, we know, son,” Jonathan said. “We just trust you enough to know that you’d tell us when you wanted us to know. We knew you’d come to us sooner or later.”

Clark blushed. “Well, to be honest, I am sorry I didn’t tell you, or confirm the rumor, sooner. I guess I just wanted to wait until I was sure there was really something there.”

“And there’s something there now?” Martha asked, beaming. “That special something?” Clark smiled and blushed as he nodded, looking down at his plate.

“You never did quite get over him, did you?” Jonathan asked.

Clark laughed and shook his head. “I guess not.” They finished eating and Clark cleared the plates off the table. They all went to sit in the front room and Martha served cake and coffee for dessert. They ate quietly and comfortably until Clark noticed his parents were exchanging another one of those looks, like they were doing that weird silent communication thing married people did. So Clark sighed and asked, “Okay. What are you trying to decide if you want to bring up?”

Martha laughed and finally asked, “Well, son, does he know about you? Your secret?” she asked. “Have you told him about Superman?”

Clark shook his head. “I want to. But… things are going really well right now, just the two of us. And I can hardly believe it. We’ve had to work really hard to get to where we are… I’m just not ready to complicate things by adding Superman to the mix, you know?”

“You’re going to have to open up to him sooner or later,” Jonathan said. “You can’t keep that kind of secret forever.”

“I know,” the son said with a nod. “And I will tell him… I know that it’ll be more difficult the longer I wait. I just… I’m not looking forward to the conversation.”

“Well, when you do tell him, you be sure and bring him here for dinner some night,” Martha said with a smile, giving her boy a reassuring squeeze. “Bruce is a good boy. We’ve missed him.” Clark promised his parents he would bring Bruce to the farm as soon as he could, but he wasn’t entirely sure Bruce would even be speaking to him when he found out his secret. Maintaining a double life had been hard, but it was now like he had a third… and as worthwhile as he found it, it was also terribly complicated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one is a bit shorter than the others... and more smut because it just happens with these two. I'll try to get the next chapter up soonish. =)


	4. You Can Have My Heart, Boy... You Don't Have to Steal Anymore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Daily Planet has a new owner, and there will be workplace flirting. Clark spends a weekend in Gotham, and romance and pillow talk ensue. Batman and Superman team up for the first time to chase down Magpie, and certain things come to light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Long chapter
> 
> And also, the whole end section of this is based on John Byrne's Man of Steel #3, just because it's my favorite version of the first meeting between these two.

"This is an absolute outrage," Lois said. "I can't believe they sold the Planet! This... this place is our home..." Clark put his arm around her shoulder and Perry nodded and patted her hand.

"I know, I know, Lois," Perry comforted. "We all think this was a lousy move. But we all know newspapers don't sell like they used to... so the owners had no choice. It was either sell the Planet or shut the old girl down. But from what I hear, the new owners are going to be very hands off and not want to make a whole lot of changes."

"Isn't that what the _last_ new owner said?" Clark asked. "And they still laid off about a dozen people."

Perry nodded. "Well, they claimed that that was absolutely necessary."

"This new owner will probably say the same thing," Lois said unhappily. "Come on, Smallville. I'll help you start cleaning your desk out now."

"Hey!" Clark exclaimed. "Why do you assume I'd be the first person out the door?"

"It's just the safest bet," Lois said with a smirk and elbowed him.

Clark rolled his eyes and laughed. He strode back over to his desk and flipped open his laptop. "Hey, Perry," he said. "What did you say the name of this new company was? The one that bought us out, I mean. It sounded kind of familiar."

"They're called Holt Holdings Inc.," Perry said. "It's a subdivision of Wayne Entertainment, which is obviously a subsidiary of..."

"Wayne Enterprises," Lois and Clark supplied at the same time. Lois's voice was miserable and Clark's was dazed, and their tones matched how they felt on learning that at the end of the day, Bruce was now their boss.

"All right, Smallville," Lois began. "C'mon and help me start cleaning out _my_ desk. There's no way Bruce is going to keep _me_ on here." She perched on the edge of her desk and picked up her name plate, allowing it to weigh her hand down. "Did you put your little boyfriend up to doing this? Because... well, I just can't believe this is happening to me. I'm going to be out on my ass because unlike you, I _didn't_ sleep with the right people."

Clark sighed. "Lois, you're overreacting. There's no way that Bruce is going to fire you. As Perry said, he's very hands off with these smaller divisions of his company. And even if he wasn't, he knows that you're the best and he'd want the best for his company. I’d wager he’s professional enough to separate the fact that you two don’t quite get along from that fact that this paper needs you. Oh, and by the way, I'm sure his buying out the planet had nothing to do with the fact that we're..."

"Permanently attached at the pelvis?" Lois suggested.

"I was going to say that we're seeing each other," Clark said, blushing slightly. "And do you have to be so vulgar? You didn't say things like that when we were dating."

Lois smiled. "It's just a lot more fun to tease you now that I know how sensitive you are about your boyfriend."

Clark rolled his eyes and smiled at his best friend, but he couldn't help but wonder just what Bruce was up to. Anyone who didn't know him as well as Clark did might have thought that this was some big coincidence and that Bruce probably didn't have anything to do with his company's latest acquisition, but Clark knew there were no coincidences with Bruce Wayne.

  
"Alfred," Bruce began, standing in front of his mirror as he finished dressing at one PM on a Friday afternoon. "Which of these ties do you think would be most appropriate?” He held two ties – one in shades of red with a diamond pattern and the other forest green brocade – up against the dark grey wool of the suit he wore.

“Appropriate for what, sir?” Alfred asked, critically searching the face of the man before him.

“Alfred, you know very well I’m going to put in a little face time at the Daily Planet today,” Bruce said. He decided on the green tie.

“So you wonder which of these ties would be most appropriate for you to wear for a visit to your Mr. Kent,” Alfred said with a little smile. “And to answer your question, I think the red one is a bit more dramatic. Go for the pop, sir.”

Bruce nodded and put on the red tie. “And I’m not visiting Clark… I’m going to check on an investment.” He glanced at himself in the mirror and added, “But if I just happen to see him… well, that will be fine.” Alfred cleared his throat and straightened Bruce’s tie.

It was a short flight to Metropolis via private jet. Bruce had considered taking the train into town (with hopes of making the return train trip with Clark in tow) but decided against it. Bruce didn’t quite share Clark’s enjoyment of the commuter train, so he certainly wasn’t going to subject himself to it when he didn’t have to. He almost laughed to himself when he thought about the evening a few weeks back when Clark had told him he liked to fly but preferred train trips. Bruce had taken Clark to a play and suggested they jet off to Paris for dessert afterwards, but Clark had said that sometimes it was more fun to “slow down and just… watch the world slip past the window.” Bruce hadn’t been entirely sure what he meant by that, but the odd statement just endeared Clark to him more.

When he landed in Metropolis, he took a cab over to the Planet office. He took the elevator up to the newsroom, and he immediately saw Clark typing away at his desk. He seemed to sense that Bruce had arrived, as his head popped up and glanced over in his direction. Clark gave him a little smile, and color rushed onto his cheeks. Some people might easily have mistaken it for a blush, but it was this certain little glow he always got when they first saw each other. Bruce had first noticed it on their third official date and he’d watched for it since. Bruce winked at him as he strode through the office like he owned the place, which was easy for him since he did in fact own it. He approached Perry’s office and Clark kept glancing through the window as they talked amiably.

When he came out of Perry’s office, he walked over to Clark’s desk. Before they could say anything to one another, Lois walked up behind Bruce and politely said, “Hello, Bruce.” And then, with a wry smile, she added, “Or should I say ‘Mr. Wayne Sir?’”

Bruce forced a smile, because he had promised on more than one occasion that he would try to get along with her. “Hello, Lois. And you may call me whatever you like.”

Before Lois could make whatever retort she was working on, Clark said, “Then I’ll just continue to call you handsome.”

“That’s fine by me,” Bruce said, perching himself on the edge of Clark’s desk. “And I’ll call you…”

But before Bruce could finish, Lois cut him off. “Careful, Bruce. Whatever inappropriate things you say and do to him now can technically be considered sexual harassment since you’re his boss and all.”

Clark shook his head and laughed. “Oh, you’re one to talk, Lois. You do and say about a dozen inappropriate things to me every day.”

“ _Oh_?” Bruce asked, turning to face Lois. “Does she really?”

Lois shot Clark a look and forced a laugh. “He’s just exaggerating! Probably trying to get me fired so he can be top banana around here.”

“Yes,” Clark said distractedly, typing the final word on his latest article. “I’m always doing things like that.”

“Well, you and I will have to have a long talk about that, then,” Bruce began. “Maybe over dinner, if you’re free?”

Clark smiled. “Sounds fantastic. And I love that tie, by the way.”

  
Thirty minutes later, they were sitting in Bruce’s private jet, sipping champagne, sitting close together in the comfortable seats. “So were you planning on telling me what this whole private jet treatment is all about?” Clark asked.

"We're celebrating," Bruce said.

Clark smiled. "Celebrating what? The fact that you're now my boss?" Bruce glanced at Clark with one eyebrow raised, so Clark went on to ask, "Buying the Planet... was that your idea of a grand romantic gesture?"

"Don't be silly," Bruce said, sipping his champagne casually. "I bought the Planet because it would have been shut down if I didn't. Now your job is out of danger... I don't need it to make money."

"So you did do it for me?" Clark asked with a smile. Bruce just sighed and refused to answer, so Clark knew that meant that he was right. The happy journalist sat silently for a moment, smiling to himself and sipping his champagne, before finally saying, "You know, some people go for flowers."

"You know what they say, Clark," Bruce said with a smirk. "Go big or go home. And, speaking of, I was sort of hoping to take you someplace special for dinner this evening,” he went on, patting Clark’s knee.

Clark glanced quickly around the plane before laughingly asking, “Oh, God. Is this plane going somewhere European? Because, you know, this whole buying my job and sipping champagne on a private jet act isn't necessary to get into my pants.”

“No,” Bruce answered with a laugh. “It's nothing like that. I didn't plan all this to impress you. I was just… I was actually hoping to take you to… my place.”

Clark nodded. "Sure. So long as we actually have dinner. Last time you asked me over, we let those veggie burgers burn because you distracted me. And I'm too starved to get distracted right now."

Bruce laughed. "So you didn't get your veggie burger... I certainly didn't hear you complaining about what you did get."

"Has anyone ever told you that you're kind of a pervert?" Clark asked fondly.

"On a great many occasions," Bruce replied with a smirk. "But, yeah... we wouldn't be cooking anyways. I actually wanted to take you to the main house. Alfred is making a lovely meal... is that... how does that sound?"

Clark's eyes were shining brilliantly when he said, "Oh, I'd love that!" He grinned and kissed Bruce softly, and Bruce gave his hand a little squeeze. This was a big deal. In all the months that they had been seeing one another, their nights in Gotham had been spent in Bruce's penthouse apartment above the Wayne Enterprises office. Clark had never even met Alfred.

Clark started fidgeting a bit in his seat, straightening his tie and smoothing his hair back. "Do I look presentable?" he asked. "I... I kind of wished you had warned me I'd be meeting Alfred. I really want him to like me..."

"Why wouldn't he like you?" Bruce asked softly. "You're..." _Wonderful? Perfect? The only person who has ever managed to make me this happy?_ He settled on, "You're fine. And Alfred likes the people I like. And I suppose I like you."

"Oh, do you?" Clark asked with a smile. "Well, I'm glad to hear that. I just really want Alfred to approve of me. This is kind of like I'm meeting your parents..."

"Yeah," Bruce said, finishing his champagne. "I suppose it is," he added, as if he hadn't thought the very same thing himself.

Clark wrinkled his nose. "Oh... I didn't just freak you out, did I? I didn't mean to imply..."

"Don't worry," Bruce said, waving his hand dismissively. "I know what you mean." He took Clark's hand and felt that familiar fluttering in his stomach when Clark flashed him a grateful smile.

  
"This is where you live?" Clark asked, beaming as he glanced out the window at the impressive sight that was Wayne Manor. "This place is bigger than all of Smallville!"

Bruce shrugged. "It's my family home."

"So when you came to my parents' farm when we were kids, this is what you left?" Clark asked.

"Well, Smallville had certain attractions that all of Gotham couldn't offer," Bruce said with a half-smile.

Clark watched the long, spiraling cobblestone driveway as he breathed, "Does this place have its own zip code or what?"

"Yes, and the peasants have been uprising lately... something about wanting representation," Bruce said sarcastically.

Clark looked at him with a raised eyebrow but a smile. "I'm sorry... I just... this is impressive." Bruce simply took Clark's hand, unsure of how to respond to that, and Clark kissed him on the cheek. He wanted to give him a real kiss, but he didn't want Alfred to see them through the mirror. He thought and he hoped that Alfred liked him. When they had met fifteen minutes earlier as Alfred picked them up after they landed in Gotham, the older man had critically looked him over, straightened Clark's tie, and scolded him for keeping Bruce out late so often. Then, in a tone more befitting a nanny than a butler, he said, "Come along, Master Bruce. Master Clark." Bruce had given him a very genuine smile once they were seated in the car... he felt like that must mean he'd passed muster.

"I feel like I should have to buy a ticket to get in here," Clark whispered as they stepped out of the car and walked up the front steps, Bruce's hand placed on the small of his back to guide him gently.  
"Now you see why I take you to the penthouse," Bruce replied.

  
After dinner, Bruce led Clark into his study and lit a fire as Alfred brought them cups of coffee. "Thank you, Mr. Pennyworth," Clark said.

"Of course," Alfred responded. "And please call me Alfred, sir."

"Only if you'll stop calling me sir," Clark said with a smile.

Bruce laughed. "Good luck with that one. He calls _me_ sir, and he..."

"Diapered your bottom, sir," Alfred supplied. "And you'd do well to remember that." Alfred turned and left, and Clark laughed.

Clark took a sip of his coffee and looked up at the family portrait hanging on the wall. "Oh, is that you?" he asked, looking at the child version of Bruce. "You were so cute!" Bruce walked up beside him and Clark put his arm around the shorter man's shoulder. "And your dad... God, you look just like him." He glanced at Bruce's face and saw that he was smiling sadly. "Oh... I'm sorry. I know you don't like to talk about them..."

"No, it's fine," Bruce said, nodding. "I don't like to be reminded of _how_ I lost them... but thinking about them is okay. Even talking about them from time to time." But Bruce sat down in an armchair and sipped his coffee quietly, so Clark took his lead. They settled into a comfortable silence as they finished their coffee, enjoying the fire and each other’s company. Quite some time passed before Bruce finally asked, "Are you... would you like to stay?"

"For the night or forever?" Clark asked jokingly with a smile.

"Well, as appealing as forever sounds, why don't we start with the weekend?" Bruce asked, only chancing to look at Clark out the corner of his eye.

Clark cocked his head and smiled softly. "Really? You'd really like me to stay?" Bruce nodded and Clark hopped out of his chair and onto the arm of Bruce's, pressing a crushing kiss to his lips.

"Is that your way of saying yes?" Bruce asked with a raised eyebrow, fighting a smile.

"Yes," Clark laughed. "Very much yes." And he knew that complications would arise... Superman would be needed, but he'd cross that bridge when he came to it. He wanted to tell Bruce his secret... maybe this weekend would be the time. But at any rate, he really did want to stay... and he was going to make it work.

  
Bruce was standing in the doorway to his bathroom watching Clark brush his teeth with the brand new toothbrush he had given him. It was his very special Wayne Manor toothbrush to be used during such sleepovers. Bruce couldn't help smiling to himself at how cute Clark looked standing there in his little boxer briefs with a big handprint design on the back, almost as if someone had grabbed him. Bruce was fighting the desire to measure his own hand against the design when Clark finished brushing his teeth and turned to Bruce to give him a coy smile.

“Come to bed,” Bruce said, returning the smile and walking a couple of steps closer.

Clark smiled and stretched his hand out to Bruce. When Bruce took it, he pulled him close, both of them laughing, and kissed him. Bruce ran his hands through Clark’s hair and started to back into his bedroom, pulling Clark with him. They sat on the edge of the bed and laid back, still kissing. Effortlessly, Clark rolled them over so he was on top of Bruce, and he grabbed the smaller man’s wrists and held them above his head.

“Oh, is it going to be one of those nights?” Bruce growled and Clark grinned. He held Bruce’s wrists tighter and pushed his hips forward, pinning him down. Bruce bared his throat and Clark left his mark on his collarbone.

“It’s so good like this,” Bruce breathed. “When you take charge…”

Clark smiled and pressed a kiss to Bruce’s jaw. “I thought you liked when I was all innocent and submissive and generally awestruck by your masculine energy.”

“I do,” he sighed. “It’s so good. It’s always so good…” He let out a little moan before adding, “With you.”

He felt Clark’s hands moving to the waistband of his Gotham Knights sweatpants and tugging them down hastily. “Why the hurry?” Bruce asked. Clark was usually the one who wanted to draw things out.

“No hurry,” Clark said, grabbing Bruce’s hand and pushing it onto his crotch. “I’m just ready for you.” Bruce smiled devilishly and pulled Clark to him with his other hand and pressed a hard kiss to the taller man’s lips. Clark pressed down on him again and rutted against him slightly, reminding him that he was ready, too. He blindly groped around on his bedside table for a moment before finding the bottle of lube he kept there.

“Here,” he said, breaking the kiss and shoving the lube into Clark’s hands. “I hate to keep you waiting.”

Clark was out of his underwear and slicking himself before Bruce even had a chance to focus. Bruce closed his eyes in anticipation and bit his lip as he felt Clark stick two lubed fingers inside him. “Let me get you ready,” Clark murmured. After he was satisfied that Bruce was open enough, he slid into him quickly.

Clark was rougher than usual. Bruce didn’t complain. He loved every second of it.

He let Clark hold him close after. He let him press soft little kisses to his mouth and listened to every romantic thing the larger man whispered.

They stayed close together, and Bruce would have been happy to fall asleep in Clark’s arms (which was a strange feeling indeed) but he was interrupted when Clark asked, “Bruce, can we talk…?”

He rolled over in Clark’s arms and said, “Okay. Go ahead.”

“Well, I guess I sort of wanted to ask you a question,” Clark began. He wanted to tell Bruce everything… really, he did. But he couldn’t, not yet. He had to build up to it. It wasn’t wise to just blurt out something like that. _Thanks for sleeping with me… by the way, I’m Superman_ …. It just didn’t have the ring he was going for.

Clark sighed. “Bruce, you know that first night we were together? After the fundraiser, I mean. You seemed like you really wanted me around. It was just like this… and it was really good. But you still kicked me out. Why?”

Bruce averted his eyes and sighed loudly. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously,” Clark insisted. “I’d really like to know. Don’t you think I deserve it?”

“Sure,” Bruce said in a tone bordering on sarcastic. “You deserve the truth… which is precisely what I told you. I prefer to sleep alone.”

Clark shook his head. “You can’t use that one anymore. I _know_ it isn’t the truth… you sleep just fine when we’re together.”

“I thought all of that was in the past,” Bruce grumbled. “Weren’t you the one that proposed starting over? And things have been fine since then.”

“They’ve been better than fine,” Clark said. “That’s why I want to know what’s different now. I just… as soon as I feel like I really _get_ you, you do something or say something that completely throws me… and I want to understand. Explain to me.”

Bruce squirmed as far away from Clark as he could. He took a deep breath before saying, “I’d imagine my explanation for why I asked you to leave the first night is probably fairly similar to why you ran out on me the second night.”

Clark sighed and put his hands over his face. “That was not my fault.”

“So that’s how things are going to work?” Bruce asked. “When _I_ screw up, I _owe_ you an explanation so you and your little _feelings_ can understand the emotionally stunted man, but when _you_ screw up, I’m being petty if I ask for an explanation?”

“Bruce, I’m really not trying to start a fight with you,” Clark insisted. “I… I just wanted to start a conversation so we can be open with each other. Let’s make this a safe space.”

Bruce shook his head. “I had my reasons. _You_ had your reasons.”

“But I want to… there’s something I need you to know,” Clark began hesitantly. Bruce gave him this glance, almost a glare. It was terribly icy and Clark couldn’t help wrinkling his nose. With a sigh, he said, “I really care about you, and I never want you to get hurt because of me.” He was a big, fat chicken.

Bruce exhaled and took his hand. “You’d never hurt me again. Not on purpose.”

“Again?” Clark asked. “What do you mean ‘again?’ Is this about that night?”

“No,” Bruce said, shaking his head. “It’s fine. Forget it.”

Clark rolled onto his stomach and scooted closer to Bruce. “No, please. If I hurt you… well, I need to make that up to you, don’t I?”

Bruce looked away and Clark detected a little bit of a blush on his cheeks. In a rush, Bruce asked, “Why did you stop writing to me?”

“What?” Clark asked, holding Bruce’s hand.

“When we were kids,” Bruce began. “We started writing each other and after a few months, you just stopped. Why?”

“Oh,” Clark said, looking down. He felt terribly guilty. When they parted ways, right before tenth grade began, they started corresponding regularly right around the holidays. He had never meant to stop writing to Bruce… he had enjoyed his letters and keeping in touch had allowed Clark to hope that he’d see him again someday, but all the changes he was going through had scared him so much that he didn’t want to talk to anyone if he didn’t have to. But the last letter he had received from Bruce, right before the school year had ended, had been the final straw. He knew Bruce had been expecting an invitation to come back to the farm for the summer. He had been hinting at it for months.

But as much as Clark had wanted him to come back, he knew he couldn’t see Bruce again yet. Because controlling his newfound strength was so difficult that he knew that it would have been easy for him to hurt Bruce, maybe even kill him.

But… he couldn’t tell him that. Not without explaining that he was Superman. And they just weren’t ready for that conversation.

“Do you remember how I said that I was going through a lot of changes?” Clark began. “Well… with all that was going on with me, I was… I didn’t really know how to deal with people anymore. I pushed everyone away, even Pete and Lana. I even tried to push my parents away, but they wouldn’t let me. It wasn’t anything personal that I stopped writing to you.”

“It felt personal,” Bruce said.

Clark looked down. “I’m sorry. I truly am. I was just going through so much that I didn’t think about how you would feel. I was a stupid kid. A really stupid and selfish kid.”

Bruce wrinkled his nose. “We were _all_ going through a lot of changes, Clark. That’s what happens to teenagers.”

“I know,” Clark said. “But what I went through was… it was really difficult for me.”

“I spent a lot of time wondering what I had done to make you stop… liking me,” Bruce said softly. “I’m great at alienating people, and I thought I had pushed _you_ away. I thought it was my fault. I thought you stopped writing because I screwed up and made you stop wanting to be around me.” He hesitated before adding, “I knew that was why you didn’t invite me back.”

Clark’s brows knit together sadly as he looked at Bruce and squeezed his hand. “Oh, my poor baby… No. I wanted you in my life so badly but I was so screwed up, I felt like I had to push you away. It was me, all me. And I know that sounds like the kind of BS anyone would say, but I swear on a stack of Bibles _and_ my Gray Ghost comic book collection that I mean it. I loved you… so much. There was nothing you could have done to make me not want you.”

“Your Gray Ghost comics, huh?” Bruce asked. “I guess you wouldn’t swear on them if you weren’t telling the absolute truth…”

Clark came closer and kissed him. “You really loved me, huh?”

“No,” Bruce said, wrinkling his nose. “I thought you were a jackass and you still are. And don’t call me baby.”

“You told me earlier I could call you what I wanted,” Clark protested.

Bruce smiled. “No, I said _Lois_ could call me what she wanted. And there’s no way _she’d_ go with ‘baby.’”

Clark gave him another quick kiss. “Because I’m the only one who can call you that. Because you _are_ my baby… because of how much you used to love me. And I bet you still do.”

“I never stopped,” Bruce said softly.

Clark grinned and kissed him. “You see,” he said. “I knew there was a big, soft, mushy romantic underneath that gruff shell.” He nuzzled Bruce’s neck as he sighed. “I never stopped either,” Clark continued. “I just learned how to hide it… even from myself.” Then, with a grin, he added, “Good thing I don’t have to hide it anymore, do I, baby?”

“I swear to God, Clark, if you call me that one more time you’re going to be looking for somebody else to suck your dick from now on,” Bruce said, giving his best attempt at sounding annoyed. He didn’t quite have it in him to actually be annoyed at the moment.

But Clark just laughed. “Eh, that won’t be a problem. You know how flexible I am… I could probably do it myself if I put my mind to it.”

Bruce sat up in bed. “First of all, I’d like to let you know that you are a huge pain in the ass. And second of all, Mr. Flexible, I’d like to see you do that.”

“Bruce!” Clark exclaimed, laughing at the same time. “I was kidding!”

Bruce crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. "Put up or shut up."

Clark rolled over onto his side, facing the opposite direction. "I think I'll go to sleep now. Goodnight, Bruce."

"Goodnight, Clark," Bruce said with a smile, pressing his back up against Clark's.

  
As he walked into his apartment on Sunday evening and kicked off his shoes, Clark couldn’t help thinking to himself that he had been incredibly lucky. Superman had not had a busy weekend. He only had to leave a few times, and only once did the timing occur that he had to make an excuse. He was walking a fine line and he knew it… and he was more determined than ever to tell Bruce the truth. But… the weekend had just been so good. He didn’t want to disrupt it. He felt a bit guilty about keeping such a big secret from Bruce… but his happiness outweighed the guilt. And maybe that was selfish, and he wished he cared.

  
After taking Friday and Saturday off, the Batman attended his Sunday patrol with more energy, precision, and determination than usual. Bruce’s weekend with Clark had been a good idea. He had asked him to stay on a whim and had spent some time fretting to himself about taking the time off, but he had told himself (and Alfred had told him repeatedly… and several different therapists over the years had told him for several thousands of dollars) that it was okay to take time for himself every once in a while. He was frequently alarmed by how often he now wanted to take time off for Clark, but these were subjects to worry about at another time. He couldn’t afford distractions while on patrol. But he had to admit that being happy, actually happy and not just acting the part, had energized him even though he hadn’t realized he had lacked energy before.

The Batman’s latest case, as it turned out, made good use of his newfound energy. For Sunday and the next four days after it, he stayed up looking for evidence on Magpie, the murderous villain who had caused seven deaths in her quest to steal “pretty things.” On the fourth night, he had cornered one of her henchmen in an alley and was about ready to get the information he needed, but the man managed to scamper away from him. He almost shuddered at the realization that the man was more frightened of Magpie than he was of him… that meant he must have seen her do terrible things.

He followed the man, who was surprisingly fast, and pulled out his grapple. The line hooked around one of the ominous statues peering over the edge of a gray building and he zipped into the air after his quarry. But before he reached the next rooftop, he felt his line catch on… something.

He looked up and… he gave a little start when he realized that it wasn’t something. It was someone.

“Superman!” he exclaimed in disgust.   _No_.  There was no reason to be upset. He was prepared for this. He had been preparing since that night that they had run into each other.  This wasn’t an ideal time, but he knew this would happen sooner or later.

Superman was flying along, cape swishing behind him, with a smile on his face. He looked like Dudley goddamn Do-Right.

“It’s always nice to be recognized,” Superman said, looking down at him with a smirk. “Now, I think we may as well head off to the police station, Vigilante. I’m sure they’ll be…” Superman’s voice trailed off when he felt the line he was carrying go much lighter. Batman was gone. He had cut himself out, and they were flying four stories above the ground.

“Either he’s got superpowers I wasn’t able to detect or the damn fool jumped,” Superman muttered to himself. “Unless you went invisible, you’ll be killed,” he called a little louder, swooping lower. He scanned the area and saw Batman standing proudly on a nearby rooftop.

Superman landed at the opposite end of the rooftop and took a few paces toward the vigilante. Four confident paces, Batman noticed. “Anyone can be invisible if they know their surroundings, Superman,” he said. “And if they’re clever enough.”

Superman came closer. “And you are the clever one,” he said drolly. “I’ll grant you that. And I won’t underestimate you again. Maybe I should have grabbed _you_ instead of your little bat-line…”

It was dark and he was getting too close. “Hold it right there! There’s something you should know before you touch me. I have an invisible force field around me and it’s set to detect super-dense biological material, like yourself.”

Superman scanned him with his infra-red vision. He wasn’t lying. “And you suppose that’s going to stop me?”

“Well, it better,” Batman growled. “I knew we’d face each other sooner or later, and I expected you to come up against me. So I knew the only way to stop you would be this. If you come within my force field, an electronic signal will go off. It’ll detonate a bomb that’ll kill an innocent person.”

Superman backed up. “What? Are you out of your fool mind? Just to prove a point, you’d kill one of your own people? The same ones you _claim_ to protect?”

“I don’t have a damn thing to prove,” Batman growled. “But I assure you, the ends will justify my means. Hear me out – you and I are different. You want to protect our planet, and that’s…” Batman stopped speaking abruptly. A light on the rooftop went on and illuminated Superman’s profile. It was very familiar.

“That’s what?” Superman demanded, annoyance and disgust in his voice.

“It’s different than cleaning up a city,” Batman supplied, still watching Superman. An idea had dawned on him, but… it was crazy. There was no way. “A different approach is necessary here. For four days, I’ve been trailing Magpie. Seven people are dead… and because of you, I’m back to square one in my investigation.”

Superman’s brow furrowed and there was this vein in his forehead that Bruce knew. And when he turned his head, Bruce recognized his chin. That cleft. And his nose. He was the same height, the same weight. No. It couldn’t be.

It couldn’t be Clark.

Clark wouldn’t lie to him. Would he?

But… it made sense. The night when he had to run out at a moment’s notice. His speed, his strength, his energy… his body heat. It all clicked into place. Squinting at him to make out his features in the dark, he couldn’t doubt anymore. He knew that face better than he knew anything. He thought he knew Clark… and…

He felt nauseous.

He had lied to Clark, but it had been necessary. Clark belonged to Bruce, not to Batman. He needed to be protected from Batman’s dangerous life. Batman couldn’t have a boyfriend. But there was no reason he should have lied to Bruce about Superman. And he had been lying for years. “I’m adopted,” he had said. “I don’t know anything about my birth parents,” he had added. But he was an alien. A lying alien.

“That was an explosion,” Superman said, intruding on his thoughts. Batman snapped back to reality. There was no time for this now. He’d have to process this later.

“It’s Magpie,” Batman said. “Let’s see how good you really are. Lead me to her, _Super_ man.”

Superman took the air and started off in the direction of the sounds. “Fine. But you and I aren’t done yet.”

Batman zipped after him. “Believe me, I agree.”

Superman flew to the old Gotham Museum of Antiquities. They had no idea what Magpie could be after in that rundown place, but now wasn’t the time to wonder why. Superman proved the “S” on his chest didn’t stand for subtle when he burst through the wall and confronted Magpie.

One of the goons pointed a gun at Superman and began to quake when the bullets bounced off his chest. Batman had come in behind Superman and snatched the second goon and was holding him off the ground when the first guy decided to shoot at him instead. Superman stepped in front of him and took the gun and crumpled it like it was made of paper.

“Nice work, Superman,” Batman said, somewhat grudgingly. Superman’s head jerked in his direction and he had an odd look on his face.

Before they could apprehend Magpie, she dropped a gas bomb, and an acidic gas filled the room. Batman coughed and reeled back as Superman inhaled all the gas.

He had to let Magpie go. Last he saw before he shot skywards, Batman still had the two henchmen in his grip. He couldn’t help them because he couldn’t touch Batman without the bomb going off.

There was something familiar about Batman. He knew that body and the way it moved. He had memorized it and the jaw that peeped out from under the cowl. The voice was obviously affected, but even that had something familiar about it. But he was being paranoid. He must have been. He flew into the atmosphere where it would be safe to release the gas and exhaled. It was a good thing. He needed to catch his breath, because he was clearly imagining things.

Because there was no way. It was his guilt playing tricks on him. He had been meaning to confess to Bruce for some time, so his subconscious was making him see something that made no sense. Because _he_ was lying, he imagined Bruce was, too. And that… it wasn’t… It couldn’t be. There was no way _his_ Bruce was this Batman.

He flew back down to the city and scanned around for Batman. He saw that Magpie’s henchmen were left tied up at her hideout… and Batman was in an alley nearby.

“I thought you might have been leaving, _friend_ ,” Superman said weakly, landing several yards away from him.

“Not yet, _pal_ ,” Batman said. “I need to examine this shard of glass from that vial of gas Magpie threw at us. I have a portable lab here in the back of the Batmobile.”

“ _Bat_ mobile, huh?” Superman asked, glancing around him to examine the shining car. “You _are_ the clever one.”

“Save the banter,” Batman snapped. He was looking at the shard of glass under a microscope, but Superman wasn’t going to get close enough to have a look for himself. “Here, I found something,” Batman said after a moment. “This bit of thread here is at least five thousand years old… and there’s only one place in town where she’d have come into contact with something like that!”

Batman hopped into his Batmobile and took off, so Superman flew after him.

Back at the museum, in the Egyptian exhibit with the mummies, Magpie was fuming about how Batman and Superman had prevented her from stealing the Faberge eggs that had been on display. The capture was easy. She broke down before them, and Superman almost felt sorry for her. Batman hoped she’d end up in Arkham where she belonged, rather than being thrown in a holding cell just to get bail before morning. Batman called in an anonymous tip, and the cops rounded up Magpie and her goons.

Batman watched from a rooftop across from the county jail as they were hauled in. Superman landed behind him and crossed his arms. Batman thought to himself that he managed to look taller than Clark.

“I think I understand why it’s necessary for us to use different methods, Batman,” Superman said calmly. “Gotham is different than Metropolis, and I see why you operate outside the law. I still don’t like vigilantes, but… you seem to be up to the job that needs to be done here.”

Batman turned and walked away. “Well, if we’re done here, I haven’t slept in four days, and I still have work to do…”

“Wait a minute,” Superman said. “The bomb? The innocent life you endangered?”

“Oh, yes,” Batman said, turning back to him. He reached into his utility belt and pulled out a small cartridge. “It’s been on me the whole time.”

Superman raised a brow in genuine surprise. “You… you risked your own life? Why?”

“I had to take the chance,” Batman said. “I figured you would be able to tell if I was lying.” Batman got close enough to hand the cartridge to Superman, and their fingertips brushed together. Even with the leather gloves the Batman wore, the touch felt familiar.

Superman frowned. “I still don’t approve of your methods… and I’ll be keeping my eye on you.”

“Same to you,” Batman said, poking him in the chest. Superman knocked his hand away quickly and backed up. That gesture… Bruce had poked him like that before, and he had knocked his hand away the same way. If he hadn’t been sure before, he was now.

“Batman,” he began softly. “Can we…”

“Goodbye, Superman,” Batman said, cutting him off. He zipped off in one direction, and Superman flew off in the other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, apologies for the end of the chapter with Superman and Batman getting after Magpie... as I said it's based on John Byrne's Man of Steel #3, credit where it's due. (I definitely recommend that mini series... must read stuff.) Next chapter the boys will have much to discuss, so that means you all have to come back and read it. =) I'm going to try not to get it as long as this one ^_^


	5. Even When We're Fallin' Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys try to deal with the fact that their secrets are out. Saying that things could have gone better might be an understatement.

Batman was fuming. _Bruce_ was fuming. They were both angry and disgusted. For months, he had been seeing Clark, and for months Clark had been lying to him. And now he had seen Superman up close he knew that he was the real deal, just as powerful as he looked. That was Clark. The same guy that liked to eat popcorn in bed and blushed at least a dozen times a day and had memorized Peter Pan (the book _and_ the Disney movie). The same guy that had called him baby. The same guy that had been the first person to prove to him that some people were good and honest and real. And now, he wasn't the first person to make him realize that that wasn't true... but he was the one person he never imagined capable of it.

The Batmobile sped into the cave even faster than usual, and Batman hopped out of the car, kicking its driver’s side front tire as he passed. “Flying, moralizing, grinning jackass liar,” he growled under his breath.

“Sir?” Alfred asked, approaching him cautiously. Batman was so distracted that he hadn’t even noticed Alfred. “Rough night, sir?” Batman merely grunted in response. Alfred, in typical proper English butler fashion, took his cape and ignored his tone.

“You look unwell,” Alfred commented. This was met by silence as Batman sat in front of the batcomputer and began accessing his files on Superman.

Alfred watched him curiously. The large screen showed the clearest picture of Superman that was available, and next to it the screen read “civilian identity: unknown.” Batman stared silently at the screen for a few minutes. Alfred wanted to ask if he had had a run-in with Superman, but he thought it best not to intrude on this moment. Batman eventually dropped his head slightly. He pulled his cowl off and looked critically at it for a moment before making an angry sound somewhere between a heavy sigh and a loud grunt as he hurled the cowl across the cave.

“My word, Master Bruce,” Alfred began in concern. “What’s happened?”

Batman instructed the computer to erase the word “unknown” and with a harsh edge to his voice said, “Civilian identity: Clark Kent.”

“Oh!” Alfred gasped. “Are you sure, sir?”

“I am,” Batman said flatly.

Alfred nodded. “And… he told you this?”

“He didn’t have to,” the detective responded.

“And does he know…?”

“No.”

Does he know that _you_ know that he’s…?”

“No.”

Alfred just shook his head sadly. “I say, sir, this is beginning to sound like an episode of _Friends_.”

Batman turned to him. “He lied to me, Alfred. He’s _been_ lying… and not just for months. For years. He’s been misrepresenting himself since I got off that bus in Kansas fifteen years ago.”

“Perhaps he had his reasons,” Alfred offered.

“There couldn’t possibly be any acceptable reasons,” Batman said.

Alfred nodded. “I see. But I suppose there are acceptable reasons for your secrecy.”

“You know that it’s absolutely necessary that no one knows who Batman is,” he responded. “You know that more than just my safety is at risk here. As soon as they know my name, I’m just a man to them again, and I’ve lost any effectiveness I might have had. The work I do, fighting for justice, is far more important than…”

“More important than honesty in a relationship?” Alfred asked. “More important than letting people in and allowing yourself some happiness? Because sir, if you’ll forgive me for saying so…”

But Batman cut him off. “Right now, I can’t imagine I will forgive you or him or anyone else. There’s no need for any further discussion. Thank you, Alfred, but that’ll be all.” The older man retreated without saying anything else, and Batman continued editing his Superman files. Eventually he pulled up a picture of Clark, the one that the Planet ran next to his articles and sighed. Everything had gotten so complicated so quickly. It wasn’t fair. It really wasn’t.

An hour later, Alfred came back into the cave to bring Master Bruce some coffee. “Thank you, Alfred,” he answered softly. After taking a few sips of his coffee, he continued, “Do you really watch _Friends_ , Alfred? That reference rolled off your tongue rather easily.”

“Well, one does need background noise,” Alfred replied. “I have to occupy myself while you’re jumping around on rooftops, and there isn’t much on television at that time of evening.” The detective gave a weak but bitter laugh and ran his hands through his hair as he glanced up at the man who had raised him. Alfred tilted his head sympathetically and gently placed his hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Perhaps things will look better in the morning,” he said gently.

“I don’t see how,” Bruce responded. “But I appreciate your effort.”

  
After Superman left Batman and Gotham, he had to clear his head. He thought about going home and asking Lois to come over for ice cream and wine, but he wasn’t in the mood for the “I told you so” she’d be completely justified in giving him. Instead he decided to go the one place he knew he could always go – the place where he’d get love and support and no one would push him.

Clark was going home.

It was late when he got to Smallville, so he let himself in his bedroom window as quietly as he could. The room was still just as he had left it when he left home, so he knew that the letters from Bruce, from all those years ago, were still in his bottom dresser drawer. The letters were bound with a dried out and broken rubber band and the little bundle was sitting next to a couple of yearbooks, a journal, and a foam finger from the first Royals game he’d gotten to see.

He had read most of the letters enough times to have them memorized. Bruce and their time together had meant so much to Clark that he had looked back on it as the last sane time in his life, and when they had been reunited after so long he felt… well, things hadn’t exactly been sane, but they had felt good and whole and they made sense. Reading over that last letter from Bruce, the one where he had so clearly been hoping for an invitation to come back to Smallville, Clark couldn’t help but feel guilty. He knew now how much he had hurt Bruce back then… and maybe if he hadn’t, maybe if he had been honest with Bruce so long ago, maybe he wouldn’t have become bitter and out for revenge over everything he had lost. Maybe there would be no Batman… or maybe the Batman wouldn’t be a vigilante – a figure that inspires fear instead of hope. Maybe he wouldn’t be trying to figure out how to hold himself together in the hopes that he might be able to hold his relationship together. It was a relationship, he reminded himself, that he was in with a man whom he no longer felt he could trust… but it was a relationship that meant more to him than he cared to think about, so he desperately held to the hopes that they could find a way to make things work.

But there was nothing he could do about any of it right then, so he put the letters back and climbed into his bed, hoping things would look better in the morning.

Clark’s parents weren’t particularly surprised to see him come down for breakfast. “I’m sorry,” he said, sitting down at the table. “I didn’t mean to disturb you guys when I came in last night. I just… I needed a night away from the city.” His mother kissed his cheek as she set a plate of French toast, bacon, and fresh fruit in front of him and his father patted his hand.

“That’s that soy bacon your father claims to hate, so you can eat it,” Martha said. Jonathan scrunched his nose and started to complain, but his wife hushed him with one raised eyebrow. “And it’s fine, sweetheart. You can come here any time you like. You know that,” she went on.

“That’s right, son,” Jonathan said. “And if something is wrong, you can feel free to tell us. Because you seem a little off today. I’ve never seen you look so down with a plate of your mother’s French toast in front of you.”

Clark sighed and began to pick at the food in front of him. “I’m okay. I guess I just have a lot on my mind. It’s Bruce.”

“Is _he_ okay?” Jonathan asked.

“No no, nothing’s happened to him,” Clark assured his parents. “It’s nothing like that.”

Martha furrowed her brows. “Did you tell him about Superman? Is that why you look so troubled?”

Clark shook his head. “I wanted to tell him, but I didn’t get the chance. I found out that Bruce is…” He hesitated. He realized that he wasn’t accustomed to keeping things from his parents, but this wasn’t his secret to share. “I just found out that Bruce had been lying to me about something, and it… hurt. I know I don’t have the moral high ground here, considering the secrets _I’ve_ been keeping, but his lying still makes me question if I can trust him.” Jonathan and Martha exchanged one of those glances, and Clark could guess that they were silently agreeing not to ask him about the nature of Bruce’s lie. Good.

“Well, son, did you tell him how you felt?” Jonathan asked. “Maybe you’d both feel better if you sat and discussed things.”

Clark thought for a moment. “Well, the thing is that I found out about this secret he was keeping sort of by accident. And I haven’t told him that I know… and I don’t really know how to bring it up. It’s just not going to end well. I know it won’t. It can’t.”

“But if you’re going to be in a relationship with someone, you have to be brave enough to talk about anything – the good and the bad,” Martha said gently. “And if there’s one thing we know for sure about our Clark, it’s that he’s brave.”

Jonathan nodded. “That’s right. And I’m sure things will work themselves out if you open up to him. You two need to be honest with one another.”

“Thanks,” Clark said. “I know you’re both right. But… I’m not really ready yet. Maybe once I’ve given it some time for the dust to clear… maybe then I’ll be able to talk to him about this.” He stood up and poured himself a cup of coffee and said, “You know, I’m not very hungry after all. I’ll probably just drink this and then give you guys a hand around here. Maybe I’ll stay for a bit… if neither of you mind, that is.”

“You don’t even need to ask,” Jonathan said. And the Kents meant that… more time with their beloved son was always good, but they both knew he was avoiding having this conversation with Bruce, and that wasn’t going to help him feel any better.

  
Clark spent two days in Kansas, and he and Bruce didn’t speak while he was gone. Then he went back to Metropolis and several more days passed in which neither of them made an effort to see or even contact the other. This in itself was unusual for them, as they had been speaking daily. But Clark wasn’t ready to face Bruce, and Bruce wasn’t going to be the one to go to Clark.

But after more than a week of silently avoiding one another, Clark decided that it was time that they settled things, or at least attempted to.

Clark turned up at the manor on a Friday evening. He half expected not to be let in, but the gates opened for him. Alfred let him in at the main entrance with a hushed, “Hello, Master Clark. Very good to see you. Master Bruce will be with you momentarily, sir.”

Alfred ducked into the study and some minutes later, Bruce came out of the same door. He was wearing grey pants and black turtleneck and he looked _really_ good. Clark stood a little taller and cleared his throat even though he hadn’t yet tried to speak and tried to look determined.

“Hello, Clark,” Bruce said calmly. “Can I fix you a drink or perhaps a cup of coffee?”

Clark shook his head. “No, thank you.”

“Have you eaten? Would you like a little something?” Bruce asked cordially.

“I’m fine,” Clark replied. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Ahh, I see,” Bruce said. “This must be important. Come into the study.” Bruce walked into the study and Clark followed him into the same room that they had sat in together that night that now seemed so long ago. He lit a fire and then turned around and poured two drinks. “Gin on the rocks,” he said, handing Clark the glass, though he had said he didn’t want anything. They clinked their glasses together.

“So, what is it you’d like to talk about?” Bruce asked, sipping his drink casually. “Why you’ve been avoiding me or why you’ve been lying to me? Or were you just here to tearfully confess to the fact that you’re Superman?” Then, when Clark didn’t respond beyond looking at him with slightly widened eyes, Bruce added, “That’s right. I know.”

Clark nodded. “Fine. I won’t deny it. You figured it out. I’m Superman. But you’ve been lying too. I know that you are Batman.”

Bruce almost dropped his glass but Clark reached out and caught it. Bruce scowled at him. “I’m… not,” he attempted weakly.

“You’re lying,” Clark said, handing his glass back to him. “Your heartbeat. I wouldn‘t normally double-check if you were telling the truth, but I didn‘t really have a choice here.” Bruce stared at him, unblinking and unmoving. Clark waited several tense minutes for him to respond, and when he didn’t, Clark said, “Okay. The cards are on the table. We know each other’s secrets.”

“Our secrets?” Bruce asked. “Is that what you think Batman is? My secret?” Before Clark could respond, Bruce walked to a grandfather clock on the wall and triggered something. The clock moved and revealed an entrance. Bruce left and Clark assumed the door was open for him to follow. They went down several levels and Clark found himself in a large cave with actual bats and a giant computer and oddities everywhere he looked.

Bruce disappeared around a corner into what Clark could only assume was a changing area. The bats screeched and their wings flapped… and Bruce’s silence was so deafening, Clark almost hurt his ears by focusing too hard on the bats up above. When Bruce reemerged, he was wearing the batsuit, but the cowl was tucked under his arm.

“Do you see all this, Clark?” Bruce asked. “Do you have any idea how much time and resources has gone into all of this? Do you know how long I trained my body and my mind to do this? And you refer to it as ‘my secret?’”

“I didn’t mean that to be condescending,” Clark replied. “But it is in fact a secret, so…”

Bruce shook his head. “No. Batman isn’t a secret. It’s who I am.”

“Fine, it’s who you are,” Clark said. “I’m not going to stand here and argue with you about that. I just think that you and I might have been a bit more honest with one another… and we should probably discuss why we weren’t.” He expected Bruce to make some response, but he didn’t. “You know, if we’re going to be able to fix this relationship…”

“Oh,” Bruce said, waving his hand. “Well, obviously, _that’s_ over.”

“What?” Clark demanded. “Just like that? We’re not even going to try?”

Bruce shook his head. “What would be the point? We’ll never be able to trust one another again.”

“How do we know that? Don’t you think that it’s worth a shot?” Clark asked. “Wouldn’t you say that this was worth fighting for?”

“It isn’t worth the risk,” Bruce said. “I should have known better than to take as many chances as I took… I briefly lost sight of what was important, and this has served to remind me.”

“It was worth the risk for me,” Clark said flatly. “I’d take the chance for you. Because what we had was good, and you know it. It was better than good… it was amazing. I love you. I do… and I know you love me. You can’t deny it.”

Bruce turned away from him and faced his computer screen. “You know, Clark. I don’t trust people. Ever. I’ve had a life where almost everyone I’ve ever known has proven to me time and again that trusting another person, putting your feelings in their hands, is foolish. But even though I knew that, you came along… and you’ve been the biggest disappointment yet.”

“May I remind you that you also lied to me,” Clark replied. “I’m not the only one who wasn’t exactly forthcoming.”

“I had very good reasons for not telling you about Batman,” Bruce said.

“I had good reasons as well,” Clark insisted. “I wanted to tell you. I _tried_ to tell you…”

“And I see how hard you tried,” Bruce snapped. “If I hadn’t figured it out, you never would have said anything!” He stopped and took a deep breath. “You know what, Superman? You need to leave. Now.”

Clark’s brows furrowed. “You’re kicking me out?” And when Bruce made no answer, he sighed heavily, shakily. “Fine. That’s just fine. I’ll go. You were right when you said that we were different. I have feelings, and I _embrace_ them. But you’ve spent your adult life _killing_ your feelings because they scare you so goddamn much. I hope the thought that you‘ve conquered your emotions keeps you warm at night when you‘re hanging out in alleys and on rooftops. Just stay out of Metropolis. That goes for Bruce Wayne _and_ Batman. I‘m done with both of you.”

He turned to go but he stopped dead in his tracks when he heard Bruce’s voice. No, actually it was that gravelly, affected Batman growl. Clark listened, but he wouldn’t face him. “I have enough evidence here to prove to anyone beyond a shadow of a doubt that Clark Kent and Superman are one in the same,” he said. “If you expose me, or even pull another stunt like you did when you attempted to hand me over to the police, I won’t hesitate to use it. I don’t want to, but don’t force my hand.” At that, Clark left.

  
Clark was too old to pout, too proud to cry, and too busy to hide in his apartment, though he wanted to do all of those things. Knowing that his relationship with Bruce was over, that Bruce had just called it off with the wave of his hand, made his stomach lurch. He loved the man, God help him he did, lies and all. And he’d have been willing to try and work things out. He had thought he could explain to Bruce why he had hidden the fact that he was Superman, and he had hoped Bruce would have some explanation for him. Sure, they were different and they did things differently… but why couldn’t having this thing in common (if you could say they _did_ have it in common) have brought them closer together? Why did things have to go so wrong so quickly? Maybe he and Bruce just weren't meant to make it work... because it always seemed to go this way for them. Everything would go along perfectly and then suddenly there would be a roadblock, something insurmountable.

It was unfair. Really and truly fuck everything unfair.

  
Bruce did not miss Clark. He would not miss Clark. In the days that passed, he didn't lose sleep wondering about him. He didn't have dreams about him over the first several weeks. The months didn't make the hurt fester. He'd have sworn to all those things. Because he didn't love Clark Kent. He didn't. He couldn't. He was determined that he wouldn't.

  
Lois pointed out to Clark one day that it had been almost a year since Bruce had come back into his life. Clark, of course, had in fact noticed. It had been all he had thought about when Perry gave him the tickets to the same annual fundraiser at which they had reconnected the first time. Bruce would be there. Clark hadn't seen him since they had broken up, not in person at least. But he had seen pictures of him at every popular spot in Gotham with a different date on his arm every time. He had to wonder how he found the time for his... nighttime activities... when he spent so much time taking models and actresses to nightclubs and the like.

  
Lois picked him up on the night of the fundraiser. They took a cab to the ballroom where the event was being held and discovered that, as they had expected, Bruce was expected to give another speech. Clark made a quick scan of the room and he didn't see Bruce anywhere. He hoped that the man wouldn't show at all. Maybe he'd send someone from his company -- Mr. Fox, perhaps -- to give the speech for him. He probably expected Clark would be there, and he probably wasn't any more eager for a reunion than Clark was. Because as much as Clark missed Bruce, he wasn't looking forward to seeing him and not being able to hug him or kiss him or probably even talk to him.

Clark had just gone to the bar and ordered a glass of wine for himself and one for Lois. He was just about to walk over to where she was standing when he looked up and saw Bruce casually coming in, fashionably late, with a pretty blonde woman on his arm. He didn’t know if Bruce had noticed him over by the bar (it wasn’t directly in his line of vision, but being the Batman, he probably didn’t need it to be), but he ducked his head just the same.

Lois had noticed Bruce and scurried over to Clark, tapping him on the arm and pointing to the billionaire and his date. “Do you know who that is he’s with?”

“I can’t say that I much care,” Clark replied. Part of him (a very small part) even thought that was a true statement, or at least it could be… once a little more time had passed.

Lois rolled her eyes. “Clark, that’s Silver St. Cloud! Remember a couple of years ago they were out a lot together… people expected them to get married.” Clark didn’t say anything. If Bruce wanted to date Silver or marry her, it was none of his business. She was just the sort of person he should be with anyways. A pretty girl from a prominent family. Clark was a mature person… he could be happy for Bruce if this was the path he was choosing. At least he wanted to think he could be happy for him, but it was hard to get himself to believe that as he attempted to swallow the lump in his throat.

Lois slipped her arm through Clark’s and took her glass of wine from him. “Let’s make him jealous! Let’s go stand over by him and get all lovey dovey. It’d just kill him if you replaced _him_ with _me_.”

Clark shook his head. “No, that’s okay. It wouldn’t work anyways.” He downed his glass of wine and then made a face. You weren’t supposed to down wine, and now he tasted why. “In order for him to be jealous, he’d have to care. And I think it’s safe to say that isn’t the case.”

Lois narrowed her eyes at him and pursed her lips for a moment. She shot Bruce a deadly glare and reminded herself that she owed him a verbal ass-kicking for hurting Clark. He hadn’t told her the particulars of their breakup, just said that something came up that they just couldn’t get past. He didn’t have to say as much, but she surmised that the reason they “couldn’t get past” this hurdle was that Bruce didn’t want to try. But she saw in Clark’s face that he wasn’t over Bruce and that he wanted to be _with_ him instead of watching him from the sidelines. Maybe she didn’t know how to give up on a lost cause, but she wanted to see her best friend happy. And maybe it was worth a shot.

“Why don’t you go talk to him?” Lois asked. “I can distract Silver, if you need me to.”

Clark shook his head. “I don’t think that would go over very well.”

“It’s worth a shot though,” she said, giving his arm a little squeeze. “You’re actually standing here pining… it’s a bit sad. You need to man up and go get your boy. Where’s that adventurous guy who’s only gotten gutsier since he’s been working with me? Go on.”

“This has nothing to do with being ‘gutsy,’” Clark said, shaking his head. “That man made it perfectly clear that there was nothing left for us. I just need to face facts… you were right… he broke my heart.”

“Do you remember promising me that you weren’t going to fall in love with him?” Lois asked. Clark nodded and rolled his eyes, so she went on, “Well, you went and did it anyways. Did I say ‘I told you so’ then? Did I say it when you two first broke up? Well, maybe once… but I was kidding you. I want you to be happy… I want that little glow back on your cheeks. And Bruce could be the one to do that for you. Don’t tell me you aren’t going to fight for it!”

“You don’t understand how badly things ended,” Clark reasoned.

Lois shook her head. “No, I understand. I just don’t _care_. _You_ don’t give up. You _never_ give up! You know what I think? I think you’re both scared of your feelings. You’re just as scared to be happy as he is.”

Clark narrowed his eyes and started to protest, but he couldn’t. Was she right? Could he be afraid to allow himself to be happy? That didn’t sound like him. Maybe he was afraid of getting burnt again… maybe it was a fear of getting within arm’s reach of having everything he wanted but having it yanked away again.

But… no. He wasn’t about to go talk to Bruce. It would probably end badly, and he just didn’t want to deal with that on this already difficult night.

Bruce soon went up on stage and gave a quick speech. He seemed distracted.

As he was stepping off the stage, he made a beeline for the bar. “Let’s go,” Clark whispered to Lois. She slipped her hand in his but gave him a resolute look. She wouldn’t let him retreat.

Bruce turned around with his gin martini in hand and looked around for Silver. He and Clark accidentally locked eyes for a moment, and Clark blushed and looked away. Bruce nodded at him and would have turned away, but Lois wasn’t going to have that happen.

“Hello, Bruce!” she called out. She motioned for him to come closer, knowing full well that he’d have to comply.

“Miss Lane,” Bruce said, nodding cordially. “Hello, Clark.”

Clark nodded and cleared his throat. “Bruce. Good to see you.” Just then, Silver walked over to join them, but before she could say a word, Lois grabbed her by the elbow (a bit rougher than was necessary, Clark thought) and pulled her off in the opposite direction.

“Come with me to the ladies’ room,” she said. “That’s a thing, right?”

Clark forced a smile. “Good speech you gave. I’m sure the foundation really appreciates your support.”

“Yes, I hope they do,” Bruce said.

“You look like you’ve been well,” Clark commented. “No… major illnesses or… injuries, I hope.”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed. “None. I won’t even bother _asking_ if you’ve been well. I know how _strong_ your constitution is. How are your parents?”

“They’ve both been great,” Clark said. “My dad’s finally sticking to the diet the cardiologist recommended, and my mom’s taking art classes.”

“They’re good people,” Bruce commented.

“I know,” Clark agreed. “You know, they ask about you sometimes. They ask if I’ve spoken to you. They had high hopes for us.”

Bruce looked away. “Send them my best.” He walked away. Clark had never been so convinced of the fact that his relationship with Bruce was over than he was at that moment.

  
Bruce and Silver went back to his hotel suite. He knew he should invite her up, but he didn’t really want to. But as it turned out, he didn’t have to. She assumed she was invited so she followed him up.

Once he was upstairs, he knocked on the door of Alfred’s adjoining room and asked, “Alfred, would you please take Miss St. Cloud home?”

“Tonight, sir?” Alfred asked, glancing around Bruce to see Silver furrowing her brows behind him.

“Yes, if you wouldn’t mind,” Bruce said. “I didn’t feel it would be appropriate or courteous to send her in a cab.”

Alfred eyed him for a moment before saying, “Very well, sir. Come along, Miss St. Cloud.”

Bruce knew that had been a bit rude. He’d have to apologize to Silver later, but right now, he didn’t much care. He knew he’d see Clark at that fundraiser, but he hoped he’d feel different. He had hoped that after months of separation he could see him and think of him like any other reporter in the room. But he should have known that was asking too much. After all, when they first reconnected, it had been fifteen years and things had felt…

Well, he wasn’t sure how to describe how they felt.

But he had liked how they felt then. He didn’t like it anymore. He didn’t like that Clark still had an effect on him. They had made the right decision when they parted ways. He had been convinced of it at the time, and he’d been telling himself just that over the past months.

But it was a lie. It was a bigger lie than any he and Clark had told one another. He almost hated Clark for making him feel like that… almost.

He loosened his tie, took off his shoes, and grabbed an orange juice from the honor bar. He went out onto the balcony and just looked out over the Metropolis skyline. It was beautiful, really. Too bright and too busy, of course, but still.

It reminded him of Clark.

He fell asleep sitting on the balcony. Alfred found him out there when he came home and threw a blanket over him. He sighed to himself and shook his head, but he was honestly just glad to see Master Bruce sleeping.

When Bruce woke up in the morning, he wasn’t sure what exactly he was going to say, but… he knew. He knew he had to talk to Clark.

He didn’t even bother changing out of his suit from the night before. He just stepped back into his shoes and grabbed the keys. It wasn’t a long drive to Clark’s apartment, so he arrived there quickly. He took the steps two at a time and paused outside the door before knocking. But… Clark wasn’t home. He sighed, and hoped that Clark was at work and not off God knows where doing Superman stuff. It was still weird to think of Clark as Superman… but now wasn’t the moment to worry about that.

He went back down to the car and drove off in the direction of the Daily Planet. He took the elevator up to the newsroom and hoped to find Clark at his desk. But… he wasn’t. Lois was at her desk right across from it though, so Bruce approached her.

“Hey, Lois,” he began. “Is Clark…?”

“Not here,” Lois answered. “But you must be desperate to find him if you were willing to ask me.”

Bruce rolled his eyes. “This has nothing to do with desperation. I’d just like to talk to him, and it’d be better in person. Do you happen to know where he is?”

“I’m not his babysitter,” she replied. “He doesn’t have to clear his plans with me.”

Bruce sighed. “Lois, please. Do you have any ideas where he might be?”

Lois shook her head and crossed her arms. Bruce sighed and turned to walk away, but Lois said, “Wait! I think he said something about spending the weekend with his folks. Don’t know if it’s worth going all the way to Kansas, but…”

“It’s worth it,” Bruce said over his shoulder. Then, softly, he added, “Thank you.”

He called Alfred from the elevator on the way to the ground floor and left him a voicemail saying, “Alfred, I’m going for a little drive. If I’m not home by this evening, you should take the train home.”

  
The drive to Smallville took several hours, so it was late afternoon by the time he pulled up in front of the farm. He was amazed by the fact that it looked just as he remembered. He walked up to the farm house and knocked on the door and waited impatiently for it to be answered.

Martha came to the door, wearing one of the aprons he remembered. “Is that… is that Bruce Wayne?” she asked. She threw the door open. “Oh, my soul and body, look at you! Come here, sweetheart!” She pulled him into a hug.

“Hello, Martha,” Bruce said. “I’m so glad to see you.”

Martha smiled and put her hand on his cheek. “You got so big and handsome since I last saw you.” Then she invited him in the house and called for Jonathan.

“Bruce!” Jonathan said happily when he came in the room, taking his hand. “Good to see you! Real good to see you.”

“We suppose you’re looking for Clark,” Martha said with a certain smile.

Bruce nodded. “Yes. I heard he might be here. Is he?”

“He’s actually out running a couple of errands for me,” Martha replied. “He should be home soon. We can all catch up while you wait for him. In the meanwhile, can I get you a cup of tea or anything?”

“Oh, no,” Bruce said. “I don’t need anything.”

But before anymore could be said, Clark came in with a canvas grocery bag on his shoulder. It was a lucky thing it was on his shoulder, because if he had been carrying it, he’d probably have dropped it. “Bruce!” he exclaimed breathlessly. “What are you doing here?”

“Is that any way to speak to your guest, son?” Jonathan asked.

Clark sighed and began again. “I’m sorry, that was… well, there’s really no way not to sound rude here. Why are you here?”

“Clark!” his mother scolded.

Bruce shook his head. “It’s fine, Martha. I… I just thought you and I might talk.”

“Is there really anything left to say?” Clark asked. Bruce didn’t answer, but Clark knew his silences well enough to tell that this was important to Bruce. So he sighed, went into the kitchen to put his groceries away and told Bruce to come out to the barn with him.

“Are you taking me up to your hayloft?” Bruce asked with a quirked eyebrow.

“Well, I wasn’t planning on it,” Clark began. “I just thought we ought to come outside because I was anticipating yelling.” After a moment’s hesitation, he asked, “If I had asked you up there, would you have said yes?”

Bruce didn’t exactly answer Clark’s question, but he said something even better. “I’ve _really_ missed you. Really.” He hadn’t really planned out what he was going to say, but that surprised even him. Clark looked down at his shoes for a moment, blushing, not sure what to say. Bruce took his hand and Clark looked up into his eyes and felt weak for the first time he could remember in a long time. But the feeling passed quickly. He pulled Bruce into him, making him exclaim, “oh!” They kissed, knowing full well it would lead to something and they’d probably regret it later. But they couldn’t bring themselves to care just yet.

Old habits die hard, and luckily, sex in the hayloft was just as good at thirty-one as it was at fifteen.

  
“I cannot believe we just did that,” Clark said, pulling his pants back on.

“I can,” Bruce said with a smirk.

“Did you come all the way out here just to quite literally roll me in the hay?” Clark asked.

Bruce shook his head. “No. And you’re the one who started this, remember?”

“If you say so,” Clark replied. “You were the one who came in being all sweet and whatnot… but I suppose that’s beside the point. Weren’t we supposed to talk about something?”

“Right,” Bruce said, shaking his head and zipping his own pants. “I was just going to say that…”

“You missed me?” Clark supplied with a smile.

Bruce shook his head. “You see, I say one thing to you and this happens.”

“But really,” Clark began with a soft smile. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Well, I don’t really know,” Bruce began. “It was strange. I just… thought I should come talk to you.”

“I’m glad you did,” Clark replied.

“But we didn’t talk,” Bruce said with a smirk, barely hiding his amusement.

Clark shrugged. “Well, we can now.” Then, with a smile, he said, “Hey, come here. I want to show you something.”

They climbed out of the hayloft and Clark took Bruce to the back of the barn, where there was something covered in canvas. Bruce expected it to be some piece of farm equipment, but when Clark pulled back the cover, Bruce smiled.

It was Pete Ross’s jalopy. The one that they had borrowed when they were fifteen and driven on what would have been their drive-in movie date. It had been in the shadow of that broken down old jalopy that couldn’t go an hour away from home without running out of gas that they had first had sex, two bumbling and eager virgins experiencing their first love.

“Wow,” Bruce said with a laugh. “I can’t believe you have this! _How_ do you have this?”

“When Pete went to college, his parents made him get rid of this car and get something reliable,” Clark said. “I had a little cash saved up… more than this heap of junk was worth, so I went ahead and bought it.”

“You’re a very sentimental man, Clark Kent,” Bruce said. Clark shrugged and blushed, but he gave one of those perfect little smiles, and Bruce had to look away.

“You know,” Clark began, “I… I know it’s probably stupid to bring this up right now when we’re having… I dunno, a moment or… something, but… I _am_ sorry I didn’t tell you. About the Superman thing.”

Bruce nodded. “And I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you about Batman.”

“Funny… I _didn’t_ tell you and you _couldn’t_ tell me,” Clark commented.

The mood changed instantly. “There is a lot at stake,” Bruce reasoned. “More than just my identity. The safety of me and everyone I know… before I knew about you, I’d have said _your_ safety first and foremost. But if people knew that I was Batman, I’d immediately become a man -- fallible, fragile flesh and blood. I wouldn‘t be a threat to criminals.”

“Did you think I was going to write a piece and expose you? Do you really think I’d do that?” Clark demanded.

Bruce shook his head and sighed. “I had no way of knowing what you would do. There’s so much about you that I didn’t anticipate. And you know, I might have eventually told you. Would you ever have told me?”

“I had been trying to work up my courage to do it,” Clark insisted. “I hated having this secret from you.”

“Yet you were able to keep it for over fifteen years,” Bruce spat.

“No!” Clark exclaimed, pounding his fist into his hand. “I didn’t know when I was a kid. The powers emerged practically overnight after we had already parted ways. And it scared the crap out of me. That’s why I never invited you back here… I was still learning to control what I could do!” Bruce watched him critically, silently, so he took a deep breath and continued. “I didn’t know anything about who I was or where I was from… I didn’t find out any of that until I was eighteen.”

“So, fine. You didn’t know then,” Bruce said. “But you kept it from me when we got together. I knew everything about Superman… I researched you for months. The only thing I didn’t know was that I was sleeping with Superman.”

“Do you have any idea what it felt like to find out that I was an alien?” Clark demanded. “Do you know how it feels to feel like… like a freak? Everyday of my life I get to feel like I’ll never fit in with other people… but with you, I felt accepted. Because you knew everything else about me and I could be myself with you… so I wanted to keep that for as long as I could. I was terrified to tell you because I thought you’d turn away from me.”

“I would never have done that!” Bruce yelled.

“But that’s exactly what you did!” Clark shouted right back. “You found out about me and that I lied, never mind the fact that you lied just as much as I did, and you weren’t willing to even try and fix what we had.”

“You know that I don’t do well with relationships or with people,” Bruce said. “I trust no one. I just… don’t. But despite that, I let you in, and you lied to me. I kept my secret to protect everyone else, but you kept yours to protect _yourself_. And there’s a big damn difference.”

“You are such a martyr,” Clark replied.

“And you are a fool,” Bruce said, shaking his head. “You have so much, so many gifts which you could use to do so much more good than you already do, and you’re standing here whining about feeling like an outcast. I’m sorry, but I can’t bring myself to feel sorry for you.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Clark said. “I’m asking you to understand. I am so grateful for everything that I have and what I can do. I love that I’m able to be a force for good. But I couldn’t be Superman all the time… I’d lose my mind. I need to be Clark… and you were the best part of Clark’s life for a while there. So I’m sorry if I loved you so much that I was scared of losing you… I’m sorry you can’t understand that.”

“I don’t,” Bruce said. “I really don’t. Because loving you was the most selfish thing I’ve ever done, and I knew it wouldn’t last. It couldn’t possibly. Because you were with Bruce, and that’s just a fantasy.”

Clark shook his head. “A fantasy how?”

“Because Bruce doesn’t exist,” he answered. “He hasn’t for a long time. Bruce died with his parents. It’s been Batman ever since… and it’s always going to be Batman. Because that is so much more important than anything else.”

“You’re wrong,” Clark replied. “There is a Bruce. And I know him. I’ve seen you act, put on your little façade for the public… and it was nothing like how you were with me. That’s the guy… the real you. The one who belongs with me.”

Bruce shook his head and looked away. “We really are too different.”

“You can’t even look at me,” Clark said. “Because you know I’m right. We’re different. We’ll always be different. But what we have is so good. Bruce and Clark, forget about Superman and Batman.”

“The fact that you say things like that proves my point,” Bruce said. “Our differences… I wish I could see things the way you do. I wish I lived in that little fantasy world you do where it doesn’t matter that we can probably never trust each other.”

“I’m really sorry you feel that way,” Clark said.

“I don’t understand why you don’t agree with me,” Bruce went on. “I would love for this to be simple. But it’s not. You know that you don’t approve of Batman. You said so yourself. And honestly, I can’t say I approve of Superman. We could try to separate all that from our relationship, but we wouldn‘t be able to.”

Clark looked discouraged. “So that’s just it? You don’t think we could work on building our trust back up? Couldn’t we focus on the goals we have in common? I mean, who would understand better than the two of us?”

Bruce sighed. “Well… the more I think of it, there’s only one thing we can do.”

“What’s that?” Clark asked.

“We have the information to ruin each other, so trust will always be an issue,” Bruce began. “The only way for us to be sure that one of us won’t take down the other might be to create mutual interest in protecting both of our identities.”

Clark raised an eyebrow. “And how do we do that?”

“We get married,” Bruce said in a matter-of-fact tone, but with a deep breath.

“What?” Clark asked. “Are you insane?”

“How else are we going to be sure that our identities are protected at any cost?” Bruce asked. “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”

Clark sighed heavily and dropped his head. “Here’s a tip: don’t call a person your enemy during a marriage proposal. Very unromantic.”

“That’s a turn of phrase,” Bruce reasoned.

“I’m well aware,” Clark said. “But you don’t get married to protect yourself from mutually assured destruction. And you don’t get married so you can keep your eye on a person that makes you feel uneasy. Bruce, I love you and you have no idea how much I’d _love_ to be able to say yes… but we can’t. It would be for all the wrong reasons.”

Bruce nodded. “Fine.”

“I’m sorry,” Clark began.

Bruce raised a hand to hush him. “No apologies necessary. I have no intention of begging you to marry me. But if we’re not going to be together one hundred percent, then we can’t be together at all.”

Clark nodded. “I didn’t think you’d want to start things up again.”

“This isn’t about what I want,” Bruce said. “It would be ill advised to start things up again. It wouldn’t work.”

“If you think that’s best,” Clark said. “But just so you know… I would protect your secret with my life, if necessary. I don’t have to be your husband to want you to be safe.”

Bruce nodded. “Goodbye, Clark.”

“This isn’t the end,” Clark said, shaking his head sadly.

“If you say so,” Bruce replied. He left, and Clark had to stop himself a few times from going after him and saying he had changed his mind. He had never in his life imagined saying no to a proposal from Bruce, but this situation was too messy right now. He knew he had done the right thing… but it didn’t change the fact that it hurt like nothing he had ever felt.

But he wouldn’t stop hoping that someday they’d be able to make things work. He knew that what they had was real, and if fifteen years apart didn’t kill it, maybe this wouldn’t either. He told himself he’d never give up hoping.

And he never did.

  
As Bruce drove back to Gotham, he replayed the whole scene in his mind. Clark frightened him because he really knew him. But he had to wonder if maybe Clark hadn’t been right about some things. Maybe he worked too hard at suppressing Bruce. Because he had never had to act with Clark. He realized that now.

And maybe he had handled things wrong and given in to his fears a little too much. He did things like that. But he wasn’t the optimist Clark was. He couldn’t hold out too much hope that they’d be able to patch things up. As far as he was concerned, this was just one more thing he’d lost. He told himself that he should just accept that what they had had was special, and he’d never feel that way about anyone else again.

And he never did.

  
They both spent a long time trying not to think about one another but wondering when life might throw them back together again. So three years later, when they did end up back in each others’ lives under somewhat different circumstances, they told themselves they’d be careful. They had said it before, but they really meant it this time. They were going to do things right this time.

And they did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the length. It got away from me. I feel like this wasn't the best chapter, but I'm on a time crunch and I really needed to get this out before I started NaNoWriMo. I hope you're not all too disappointed, ahahah. Thank you guys for sticking with me so far... I'm planning a third story for this series which should tie things up nicely... and I'll finally give you that happy ending I've been promising!


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